In those days the mail order market was dominated by a small number of horticultural dinosaurs or 'postal Cycads' as thay have been dubbed by a wag. They failed to move with the times and they perished. The purpose of these adverts was to appear slightly more innovative and slightly more current than the failing competition.
At the time I was being sold advertising space by Liam, a delightful Irishman with a voice that could suck the honey out of a beehive. He had a degree in
modern languages and was far too good for the shitty job he had in telephone advertising sales. We both knew it.
Liam would telephone me, I would make up some rhyming nonsense on the spot, and it would appear in the press a week or so later. We both laughed a lot
and we both shared the joke. It was self-indulgent and I loved every minute of it.
I never met Liam in the flesh, but the memory still makes me smile. He found a better lifestyle and moved on. He was replaced by a half-wit with no sense of humour and the series of adverts ground to a halt.
In the unlikely event that you ever read this, Liam, thank you!
A verse of Doggerel if I may
To see the season on it's way
The new catalogue, after short delay
Can be sent to you today. For 3 x 1st class stamps.
(I wish I could make that rhyme!)
May 1987.
If you hoped May would be the last verse
Think again, for June's much worse.
In the catalogue you may yet find
Some charming plant to ease your mind.
(I told you it was bad!)
June 1987.
July dawns warmest month of the year
Catalogue in hand, reclining in the garden.
More nightly running bandy from the storm
Because your "weeding knees" have hardened.
(3 x 1st class stamps for "recliner style" catalogue.)
July 1987.
August is a lazy month
the deck chairs have been dusted
and other peoples gardens grow
plants for which I've lusted.
(Visitors please note, I will be asleep in the shade.)
August 1987.
September starts Autumns slow decay
and tardy Asters brave display
shines, as though to repay
their lethargy to get away.
(3 x 1st class stamps for catalogue of rare and unusual plants. Descriptions entirely in prose, thankfully!)
September 1987.
October starts the season of Snowdrops
and the season of cough drops.
Postmen walk with plants in boxes,
wearing out their soxes.
(3 x 1st class stamps for woollen wearing catalogue.)
October 1987.
Mild November (chokes with laughter)
arrives again to cheer us all
if a cheerful spring is to come after
it must be planted in the Fall.
November 1987.
If winter do depress'un
you can feel her cold caressin'
that old scowl needs repressin'
even half a smile's a blessin'
(So you need a catalogue. Rare and unusual plants and descriptions.)
December 1987.
In January earwigs sleep
and all the nasty beast that creep
have gorged the garden into shreds
and are resting in their beds.
(So there's time to read the catalogue. 3 x 1st class stamps.)
January 1988.
Now's the time that plants need planting
Spring is coming, growth is starting.
Catalogues should be enticing
Even when of my devising.
February 1988.
Here at long last comes the spring
You might say it was March-ing in.
If you want to plant into your ground
The catalogue has rare things to be found.
March 1988.
April showers will still descend
Through most of May and never end.
So sodden gardeners will read
Of the things they should have grown from seed.
(Catalogue of garden plants and hyperbole still available.)
April 1988.
May follows its eponymous blossom
Which started here in April possums (well, I'm desperate!)
The better weather brings from far and wide
Customers who flock in on all sides.
(Open afternoons, not Sunday, new catalogue soon.)
May 1988.
Hard to find plants be blowed
The Nursery, though on the main road
Always seems to hyide as people pass,
Even the taxi drivers have to ask.
(Open afternoons, phone if lost. New catalogue imminent, watch this space.)
June 1988.
July in glorious golden haze
Lies parched beneath suns cutting rays.
And wilting plants lie safe from posting
Though subject to a roasting.
(Despatch re-starts September.New catalogue available, 3 x 1st class stamps.)
July 1988.
The catalogue is being sent out
To all who write and ask.
They will receive, without a doubt
A range of plants for any task.
(fascinating catalogue (quite objective!), 3 x 1st class stamps.)
September 1988.
The Nursery has a list
Of garden plants not to be missed.
A catalogue you will agree
Unlike any you have seen.
October 1988.
November with her frosty glare
Kills to the ground leaving it bare
And catalogues filled with desires
Grow summer's dreams 'gainst winters ire.
(Marvellous monochrome catalogue now available, 3 x 1st class stamps.)
November 1988.
Like a giant snowbound sneeze
December finally arrives.
Plants can be ordered at your ease
Because the garden will revive.
(3 x 1st class stamps for curious catalogue.)
December 1988.
Frost takes January
Shakes it by the head
Throws it by the wayside
And leaves it there for dead.
(Send for remarkable plant catalogue during this desperate month. 3 x 1st class stamps.)
January 1989.
Wet February makes a sog
Of garden, so a catalogue
Of garden plants brings cheer
And colour for the dying year.
(Send for remarkable plant catalogue during this desperate month. 3 x 1st class stamps.)
February 1989.
This Marching swansong of advertising
Will be the last rhyme so surprising.
With broken heart 'the cost' I cried
Means next month I retreat to the classifieds.
Pity, this was fun.
(The totally unexpected catalogue of rare and unusual plants available for 3 x 1st class stamps.)
March 1989.