I always liked the Captain Haddock rants. Now that I'm older and gradually re-acquainting myself with Tintin, I find that some of them have aged better than others. Nonetheless, they're inspirational enough that I can't look at my (admittedly somewhat odd) bag of plants without thinking of it as an alliterative epithet.
It's a stretch, of course, to describe the above as a bag of beets, but pestillence-porting parcel of peas isn't quite right in the Haddock spirit.
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