A Tribute to Wasps

I'm starting to like wasps.

Well, maybe that's a bit generous, but I definitely prefer them to flies. Why?

Because they know what they want.

They don't waste their time flying into glass doors, navigating your lounge in circular motions or trying to land inside your ear canal or on your face.

If you've got a sweet drink, or an ice lolly, they're interested. They'll fly right up to you and try to land on it.

Rather than panic, the best way to deal with it (rather than trying to bat them away) is to blow air directly at them. They mistake it for a breeze and it puts them off balance. After a few of these, I find they tend to bugger off to find something else to land on.

In the process of getting rid of them, I've found that the vast majority, when fed up, will find a way straight out of the vicinity. No getting stuck in curtain netting, no circles.

Just out.

Fair play to them. Just don't piss one off.

Comedy Musical Timing

When popping into the loos at work today, I had my MP3 player on, and my playlist had Marilyn Manson's rendition of Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics.

As I left the toilet, I was humming along, and went to wash my hands.

There's a bit in the song that goes:

"Some of them want to abuse you; some of them want to be abused".

Where abused is screamed by Mr Manson.

Humming turned to muffled singing, as I lathered up my hands blissfully aware that I'd turned on the volcanic tap instead of the cold one.

So on I sang...

"Some of them want to abuse you; some of them want to be.....".

I put my hands under the tap that has releases water at boiling point, and I let out the girliest scream I've heard myself use in quite some time.

"AbuuusaaaahhhahahahahahhhhHHhahahaowwww!"

Big girl's blouse, I know.