Compost
During the predictable spring rush to buy / create the exterior home decoration choice of twats (the hanging flower basket), my mother and stepfather scoured the county for the best bargain resources available. Often accumulating hundreds of un-necessary miles and obscene petrol usage in the search of cheap begonias or something.

They happened upon a remarkably low-cost brand of bagged compost one year, buying sufficient amounts to fulfill all of their annual gardening requirements. Upon beginning their creations of suspended floral craftwork, my mother deftly sliced open the first plastic sack to release the pungent and entirely unpleasant aroma of pigshit. Not just a brief waft from the freshly opened bag, but a distinct andd lingering odour that clung to the very fabric of our house and intensified during any rain or upon manual watering.

Yes peeps, my mother, in her miserly pursuits, managed to locate a substandard quality of... DIRT. I hadn't before considered the industrial process for adding value to soil, but that summer I learned to appreciate the processing and quality control that is applied to garden centre's finest loam.

I'm no biologist, but generally dung is good for plant nutrition, although it must be thoroughly rotted down for a period sufficient to dispel the inherent odours and stinky nastiness before the enriched substance can be successfully bagged and sold to consumers.

Length gag? Thanks, Mum for making our house and the surrounding area smell faintly of pigshit for approximately 5 months of 1998.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Fri 4 Jan 2008, 11:27, Reply)