"Don't be stupid man, there's no angels in Ireland, they'd bloody rust"*

Right well that's it, totally, really it. My sweetpea are actually starting to float away, the sage is dead from mildew, half my courgettes are rotting on the vine, and, this being the final straw, my tomatoes have blight, bloody blight (as in potato). How am I supposed to work under these conditions? I demand to see the manager, where's the original contract?

*Slightly adapted from the original by Dorothy Dunnett, can't remember which book.