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Officials make hash of ashes request

Tell you what, there's a lot of stinky manure around at the moment - and I'm not talking about the (yawn) election, or the world's troublespots.

No, the deep piles of doo-doo that are building up around the place are the appalling and unthinking attitudes of minor authorities and their go-by-the-book attitude to life.

These pencil pushers, beancounters and pathetic middle managers who up hide behind their positions of power - very limited though it may be - and it seems their only role in life is to be a pain in the arse to anyone who requests something out of the ordinary.

I reckon these people - and, yes, most of them are blokes - must have some sort of disorder to be such tossers. That, or else they're being starved of affection at home, suffer from PE or desperately need extra height.

The latest unneccessary rulebook-waving bit of short-dick syndrome comes in, of all places, the beautiful Royal Botanic Gardens in Melbourne.

It seems that a chap who absolutely adored being in the gardens died and his family wanted his ashes scattered in the place he loved so much.

No great drama you would have thought.

But, oh no, a simple, nice request was met with a refusal - unless a donation was made. A cheerful $500 was suggested.

Now, I may be wrong here, but aren't the gardens everyone's? Aren't they for all (who have paid their exorbitant taxes over the years) to use as long as they don't damage the wonderful spot?

Well, said the Chief Tree Watcher, our staff don't want to work among peoples' remains!

What?! Peoples' remains!!? Surely he's confused. Body parts - bits of leg, an eyeball or two - are hardly likely to appear from within an URN.

It's dust, you screaming wally, just like the tonnes of blood and bone you probably sprinkle over the plants every year. Peoples' remains indeed. Bah, humbug!

When this old codger sucks the big one, I'm going to make it a part of my will that part of my ashes will be taken to the Botanic Gardens, have a couple of sprinkles near a tree, then have a lot more poured into the staff's salt and pepper shakers. Hmmmm, maybe even get mixed in with the sugar bowls too!

Just be careful though, adding water to the mix may sprout a Grumpy Old Coot - or even two. Now that would be fun.

Now, where's that chap who does the cloning?

If there is something that has really got up your nose, let Grumpy Old Coot know at grumpy@webwombat.com