Our dear, dear Steve 1 and our equally dear Steve 2 arose the next morning with one thing on their mind; soil. The instructions from their encounter with the plant enamored owner and his tearful beefy friends were clear, to provide a humble offering of apologetic soil and the whole leafy incidence could be forgotten. And so the two Steve’s asked themselves a question which is asked, on average, about seven times a year in Durham; ‘where can one get good soil these days?’
Having decided upon the large B&Q out in the hinterlands they call Gilesgate and feeling a bit like Simba as he embarked on his trip to the badlands (for the sake of your childhood you should understand that reference) the intrepid pair set out with hearts full of fire and minds full of compost.
Having trekked through half a mile of gruelling pavements and a brief pit stop constituting Mountain Dew and Space Invaders (high in carbs and quick release sugars, according to Steve 2) they finally crested the hill to be greeted by a glorious savannah of generic suburban shopping complexes. Pizza Hut, Sports World, Tescos and B&Q all blazed their hallowed logos upon the cold northern skyline. Once inside, having checked out the new Drillmaster 4000 (a power tool Steve 1 was weirdly excited about) the two scallywags located the array of soils on offer. Sparing no expense they splashed out upon the finest money could buy, which turned out to be about £3.25 worth of high quality dirt.
Slinging the sack triumphantly over his shoulder Steve 1 was marching over to the checkout when an alarming squeal from Steve 2 caused him to turn round. Steve 2 was waggling a pointed finger manically towards the ‘Potted Plants and Shrubbery’ aisle. Following the fervent pointing Steve 1 joined Steve 2’s wide-eyed staring. Right there, glancing around nervously, was the very man for whom the pair were soil-searching. Clearly attempting to assert the air of a nonchalant shopper the two Steve’s watched him sidling over to an young but sizeable clump of bamboo. With one final scan of his surroundings and drawing the misguided conclusion that he was not being observed the plant loving individual shuffled forward and began pressing his whole body against the poor little bamboo. His face relaxed into a terrifying look of sickening contentment. The spiky little cluster of oversized grass begin to shake slightly as the man proceeded to engage in barely perceptible gyrations. Both Steve’s, wide eyes and mouths agape, made the collective decision to remove themselves from the increasingly uncomfortable situation.
Having paid as quickly as quickly as humanly possible they sped out of B&Q in a manner that can only be imagined if one has witnessed professional speed walking (a certified Olympic sport I’ll have you know). Making the entire journey home in a profound and deeply disturbed silence they stopped only once, to deposit their heavy sack of nutritious mud next to the plant which had caused this whole kerfuffle.
As Steve 1 and Steve 2 lay wide awake at 3.30am in their beds that night, plagued by thoughts of gyrating hips and wobbling bamboo shoots, they vowed never to steal again.
And so it is on this bizarre note I end this cautionary, entirely real tale; let it be a lesson to all considering stealing anything on a night out. It’s just not worth the toil, terror and perturbed thoughts of molested plant-life.