“Hello. Is that the Parks Trust?”

There was an intensity about the voice on the phone. Maybe a swan was injured or a dog was lost. Yesterday we had a call about someone driving golf balls from the Light Pyramid.

“Yes, it is sir. How may I help?” I find a congenial response tends to take the wind from their sails.

“This is Kew Arboretum. We sold you some mature Horse Chestnut trees back in early spring.”

“I remember them well.” I replied. They resist Bleeding Canker that is killing off our native Chestnuts. I visited them only yesterday; they are wonderful. They have most unusual flowers; I can’t wait to see the size of the conkers they produce.”

The voice hesitated and then said: “Oh dear. Oh, dear oh dear.”

“Is there anything the matter?” I asked stating the obvious.

“Well, we need those trees back. We delivered the wrong ones.”

We’d conducted a successful crowd funding project to replace the dying trees. Kew had assured us that their trees contained an anti-bacterium component to their DNA.

“How urgent is this?” I wanted to stall the work. The flowers really were tremendous and were attracting a lot of attention across the city. They were yellow, bell shaped and inside was a red tongue shaped stamen. They seemed to respond to human company by lifting their open mouth to face skywards. It was becoming a tourist hot spot to rival the concrete cows.

“I’m afraid it is very urgent. We’re prepared to do the work ourselves to remove them and replace them at our expense.”

It was generous, but not the response I was hoping for. Then I remembered why I’d seen the trees yesterday. I was assisting the police with a mobile incident unit. “It will be a little difficult right now. You see the police are having quite a presence on the estate as we have a little kiddie missing.” And a dog, I could have added.

“Oh dear. Oh, dear oh dear.”

“What is the matter?” I asked.

“Put simply; the tree is a hybrid version of a horse chestnut. To create its anti-bacterial capabilities, we introduced genes from another plant.”

“Well, they are thriving I can assure you.”

“You don’t understand.” He was almost pleading now. “We crossed the genes with that of a Cobra Lily.”

“That’s an exotic plant. One I know well.” I assured him.

“You do?”

“We have a few more unusual plants in our greenhouse here in Milton Keynes.” I added proudly.

“And, what do you feed them?” he asked.

“Apart from leaf mulch, we notice they seem to like wasps. Their flowers attract them. They are carnivorous.”

“Correct. And how big do the plants grow?

This was like Mastermind; “No more than knee high.” I answered.

“And how tall are the new trees now?

“About three meters high.”

“And how big are the flowers?”

“Well, I would say about the size of a small chi…ild. oh dear. Oh, dear oh dear.”