Broccoli Man In Sex Change Shocker

So, Broccoli Man delivered his contribution, and in the process admitted that he is a woman.
So here is her blog:

Random Thoughts On A Long Voyage Home

I cannot stay long. I am on a train hurtling back to the land of the broccoli that I have missed so much. I am tense. I am late and hate hurrying. I look up and see the dark devil clouds of Monsieur Ha Ha glaring down angrily with their huffy puffy cheeks blowing at the poor limp poplar trees of northern France so obviously a pale imitation - yet mutant form - of the fine English broccoli trees we all hold so dear.

I once presented a plastic broccoli monster to Arsene Wenger. He did not understand the gesture. He told me to **** off. Rather uncharitable I thought. It was in a small brown bag too labelled in French. He does not understand anything that man. They lost their next game. Ah ha. The power of the broccoli is with us all. But not him. Amen.

But it is not just broccoli that lures me back to this green and verdant land. Oh no, that would be a lie. It is of course my goat. He is missing. He is called the de friend of the de foe. He speaks Aramaic but understands conversational English. He goes with my beard. Though not in public. He cannot count or draw or sing but he is still very good to me sometimes. If you see him before me tell him I am sorry. He is not a friend of mine, though I owe him some explanation. I only shouted because I was angry.

I am angry often. Not that often. But sometimes when I am frustrated and I see this supposed goat friend of mine chewing at my broccoli plants I have spent months cultivating I come over all dizzy. I feel a fainting fit come on and wake up covered in mud with an injured goat hobbling off before me. He always has the last laugh. Love and loathing crosses my world simultaneously. But I have plans. Plans that will one day cause goat havoc in kebababia. He is a right Shi’ite of a goat if the truth be known. And we all need Sunni times to grow our beloved green bushes.

I am at a crossroads. Help me in my quest. You shall be rewarded. He is three feet tall with horns. He has a black and white coat (that used to be mine) and works part time at UCL. There is a reward if you spot him. Ah Ha. The wrath of the goat seeker be upon him. Let me know and I shall reward you. The green, green bush of my broccoli will be forever yours. Amen

Househusbandnot back again. Madame Broccoli strikes me as 100% nuts but also interesting in a euroagriculturalgypsy way if you know what I mean. I feel she has a novel or two in her. I am assuming she is not the person logging into househusbandnot from Agence France Press. Or if she is, then God help the French media. As payment for this post, I sent Madame Broccoli a photo of me and mrs househusbandnot - which is how I found out she was a chick. My sister has five goats.