Allotment Jack is almost certainly one we will get eventually, and it’ll go like this.
1) Breadcrumbs about some exciting news, the squigs all think that finally their deity has been given the twenty four part prime time BBC1 show she’s so cruelly been overlooked for. Jack reveals the news, she’s getting an allotment, squigs feign excitement.
2) Allotment Jack goes into overdrive with ring binders, glitter pens and post it notes making planting schedules and growing charts, she shares all these with Twitter. This is her thing now, she’s gardener Jack, she’s going to be the best ever, better than Charlie Dimmock, Allan Tichmarsh and Monty Don rolled into one.
3) She buys shiny new toys, tools, seeds and whatever else gardeners use. Shows these off on Twitter, a few non Jack fan accounts mutter about how she’s supposedly broke but spending £££s on new stuff. Squigs shout about can’t Jack have nice things and squeal over spades and hoes.
4) She writes a toe curling piece on having an allotment. “I arrived at my little patch of earth just as the sun slid surreptitiously over the horizon like an inexplicable egg floating on a nourishing bowl of curried pigs trotter and mussel soup (recipe to follow). The scent of the sensual sepia soil soothes my scarred and scared soul. Old Bert is already here, his aubergine and plums ripe and purple are laid out on his trug for all to admire. He beckons me over with one strong yet wrinkled yet aged yet gnarled hand. As I approach he looks me up and down, then speaks, his voice is the voice of the people ‘Aye lass, you’ll make a fine wee gardener that’s for sure, I can see you’ve got soil under your nails and could bench press the queen.’ As he says this he wipes a tear from his eye, and I know I’m home, this is where I belong.”
5) Three days later Jack forgets all about the allotment and we never hear of it again. Gardener Jack is replaced by, in turn, geologist Jack, bee keeper Jack and modern sculpture enthusiast Jack. All of which last approximately one week.
I have just discovered today that family members have moved into the rather poor down trodden neighbourhood of Thorpe Bay, not only that, they are not close enough to smell the lingering honk of the shitty bungalow but they certainly are close enough to watch the tree those former bastard but now agreeable tree surgeons were going to destroy and close enough to see the signpost for a certain lawn tennis club! Which means at some point we will visit and I will put on my thicker glasses just in case I see any LurpakJack / Burglar Bill type characters lurching after dark towards Tesco Express in search of nightmeat! I will warn them that they may need to enhance the fencing around the property to keep any wild Pumbles at bay.
for those watching in black and white it’s the button next to the blue one. 
