Listen Mary, I hear you high-class British broads know your way around a garden so I am going to let you in on a little operation I have going here.
You’ve probably heard by now about the secret garden. All locked up and all that. Here’s the deal — there is a reason that shit is kept under lock and key. I’ve got a Grade-A pot operation going in there. None of that low-quality skunk-weed shit. Good product for good people, you know what I mean? I grow the best and I sell to the best.
Lately that shit has not been growing well and I’ve got some important customers lined up for product that ain’t sprouting.
This is where you come in. Way I see it, you’ve got nothing but time on your hands and a green thumb that is your birthright. So I am making a one-time offer here. You help me grow some Grade-A product in my secret garden and I cut you in for 15% of the profits. And don’t give me that shocked look, that “but I am a lady” shit. Your uncle Craven is one of my best customers. You think his lordship doesn’t see a weed farm on his own property? Blinded by grief, my ass. The bastard demands a 60% discount off the wholesale price for turning a blind eye. And don’t think about snitching; that bitch ass cousin of yours, Colin, tried to snitch and I messed him up good. You want to see what happens to snitches, you walk past that pasty inbred bastard’s bedroom. Ever wonder why the servants pretend they can’t hear anything? Because I run a tight ship and don’t take kindly to snitching, that’s why.
So, what do you say Mary? This English rose ready to make some shit bloom?