Peter Bromhead: A toxic waste

Illustration / Peter Bromhead

"During your career, how many trees had to die to provide paper for your endless doodles and scribbles?" came the impertinent question from some zealous nature lover, clearly indicating that I'd selected the wrong person to sidle up to for a little frothy cocktail party chatter.

"Err ... I've absolutely no idea," I stammered.

"Thank God, electronics will one day see the end of this mindless destruction!" she exclaimed, holding her hand protectively over her wine glass, presumably apprehensive that I might slip something lethal into her drink.

As usual, when I'm attacked over chopping down trees to produce newsprint, I bring up the matter of toilet paper, which usually diverts further conversation.

But in this case the answer came back bitingly: "Darling, have you never heard of bidets?"

"Good point," I conceded, not daring to mention that on a recent overseas trip, I'd come across some sort of super-toilet, electronically armed with numerous bidet functions. Unfortunately, I was too apprehensive to press any of its buttons, in case something ghastly was sprayed over my exposed posterior.

"If you want to do your bit to help preserve the planet, you should seriously think about installing bidets," the tree-defender continued, clearly assuming such devices were beyond my comprehension.

In a last-ditch attempt to counterattack her credo, I responded by saying that because we live in the country, we have only a long-drop toilet, and short of diverting the garden hose into the inner sanctum, I was technically limited in what could be installed in the corrugated iron outhouse.

Her baleful stare confirmed to me that people who practise extreme beliefs, particularly on greenie matters, are not usually noted for their sense of humour.

"You don't expect me to believe that rubbish, do you?" she snapped, tapping her glass and clearly indicating she was bored with the conversation and wanted to seek more agreeable company.

"We all have our ways for caring for the planet and our philosophy is, what grows from the earth, should be returned to the earth," I piously suggested.

"Filling the countryside full of untreated toxic waste is hardly an exercise in good housekeeping in today's world," came the retort as she walked away.

Since she had raised the matter of toxic waste, I would have liked the opportunity to discuss the interesting parallel between such effluent and untreated cocktail party conversations, but she was already out of earshot.