John Gibson: Can he dig himself out of this hole?

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Hoe, hoe, hoe! We’re in the middle of National Gardening Week. Do you dig it?

Countless individuals interpret an allotment as some form of benefit, a goverment hand-out, not so much a piece of ground on which you grow your own veg.

Colleagues here in the office have long rated me as some kind of vegetable, but let me assure you the feeling’s mutual. I’ve seen a right few turnips come and go in my time. Deep down we’re all pals together.

We should all be singing in unison, warm and respectful to each other, always looking on the bright siade of life. It is Easter, after all and, yes, I’ve dyed my eggs and rolled then down Calton Hill.

Green is the colour, isn’t it Terry? By rights, or, rather, by wrongs, Terry B, above, should be finding it difficult to crack a smile these days. I’m getting excuses up to here.

What a carrot!

The stuff, meaning the lolly, to give the troops. It’s bonus time in the Army and what jolly good fun Captain Mainwaring would think of it. I am visualising his facial expression as I write.

Our regular soldiers now have a £10,000 carrot dangled before their very eyes if they sign up with the reserves (what used to be called the Territorial Army).

We’re so desperately short of troops, the Ministry of Defence have been so brutal reducing the full-timers.

What an unholy mess Defence Secretary Phil Hammond and his minions have dropped us in. Send for the Salvation Army. £10,000 worth of tambourines per man in the UK’s front line could be the answer.

A £10,000 carrot. I can’t say the MoD haven’t done their bit for National Gardening Week.