Archive for May, 2009

Invertebrate Invasion

We have been told by ‘experts’ that there is a high probability that we’ll have a blistering summer this year. I remain unconvinced. If it does get into ‘Phew-What a Scorcher’ territory though I reckon we’ll all be seeing a full scale insect assault this year.

On what do I base this theory, you ask, agog… well, we’ve had one hot summer day so far and on that day I was systematically invaded by small, frightening things.

Let’s get one thing straight – I am generally not worried by creeping crawling things. I’m the one at work usually called on to eject unwanted bees/wasps/spiders/beetles as I am happy to scoop offending critters up and chuck them out of windows – hey, they have a right to live too, yeah? (Tokes on huge joint, hugs nearest tree) BUT, I do have to draw the line somewhere. So when I was sitting, relaxing in a chair in my garden yesterday and I heard what sounded like the approach of a small helicopter I was somewhat unsettled.

This… THING… flew into view round the shed. It was a sparrow-sized wasp and it was heading straight for me. Before I knew what I was doing I was inside slamming every window and wondering if I was ever going to get the stains out of my underwear. It was a queen hornet and it was scoping out the shed for a good nest site. Not good. Y’see, hornets are not only bloody huge but they defend their nests with extreme agression. I’ve never even seen one before, but this one’s quite determined and it’s bloody put the shits up me, as Churchill once said. It’s been back a couple of times since. I managed to nervously spray fly killer through a crack in the shed door, it came straight out and went at me again causing me to flail, yell and dance like a twat. Bastard. I’ll scare it off yet, er, somehow. Anyone got a flamethrower I could borrow?

Also had a bloody huge spider run across the floor of the lounge. Again, they don’t usually bother me but this was like an eight-legged mouse and it ran like a muther straight towards me. I’m ashamed to say I squeaked and threw my legs into the air like a girly. What is it – do I smell nice to these things? Or are they launching some kind of vengeance attack for all the woodlice I ate as a child? The dog rescued me from the spider, then backed off as it had second thoughts and I deftly got a glass over it and hoiked it out the back door. (Actually I took it to the very end of the garden and threw it over the neighbour’s fence, just in case)

Mark my words. The advance party is here and the main invasion force is coming… Get your cupboards full of spray and big flyswats – you’ll be thanking me by September, but keep your guard up – what do you think the crane-flies have been doing for the past few years? Amassing, that’s what. The skies will be black, you’ll have them in your ears, up your nose, twitching their evil little legs at you as they bumble into your face…












This post sponsered by Raid(TM)


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April was certainly a month of TITS for me.

I saw great TITS, blue TITS, coal TITS, long-tailed TITS and even some ladies TITS. On the telly. Once.


Sorry, I just wanted to shout TITS a bit. Springtime can do odd things to a man, you know?



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For several years now I have had a small sebaceous cyst on my chest. he’s been a jolly little feller, just sitting there like a big old lumpy spot thing, itching from time to time, never any real bother… Until the weekend.

I had a bloody fun weekend actually. Straight from work to a mate in Southampton on Friday evening, much imbibing of naughty things and much talking of bollocks, as a Friday evening should be. Up on Saturday at 7.30 to take a couple of lurchers and a mad sheepdog for a long walk through huge woods blanketed with bluebells in the dappled light of a rising sun.. mmm…

We had a mighty breakfast of farm-fresh bacon, eggs, toast and beans (ok, they might not have been particularly farm-fresh, but if you KNOW of any fucking baked beans farms please feel free to correct me). Anyway, it was bloody ace. More imbibing, more talking-of-bollockness and then return to home, big bath and… FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!?

As I removed my shirt a mighty red swollen ball emerged, blinking, into the light. Instant panic, my benign little cyst has become INFECTED! Yesterday it was a friendly little conjoined twin, suddenly it’s a GARGANTUAN, SUPPURATING BUBO!!!

Naturally I decided not to go to the doctor. I have, somehow, managed to live for 44 years without anyone ever taking a knife to me and for some strange reason I’m quite keen to keep going for as long as I can without someone CUTTING me. Yes. Don’t want to be cut.

(Of course, I’ve probably just set myself up for some kind of awful yet hilariously ironic death now)

So. I applied germoline, dressed it and tried to deny its existence. The feeling of adhesive tape continually tugging at my chest hair was a bit of a reminder (yes, ladies, I am most hirsute about the chest and body. Sadly due to some genetic cock-up my body hair ALL looks like pubes. I don’t know who’s responsible for this, but if I ever get my hands on them…)

Today I removed the dressing. Now, there may be some readers of a nervous disposition so I will spare the the details. Suffice to say, it looks a lot better. Of course, for a large, swollen, skin-straining ball of pus to ‘look a lot better’ there’s really only one course of action for it to take. It’s got to lose the pus. Usually this happens by the skin-stretching ball of pus becoming a skin-splitting ball of pus. I’ll let your imaginations fill in the details. One point of interest though – it looked like melted toffee.

So, now it sits upon my chest, itching like a mofo and seeping gently. My little friend. I’ve called him Malcolm. We’re going to have such fun together… 

Hey, itching’s a good sign, right..?


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