B4stards, one just buzzed me whilst at the pc, right in my f*ckin ear, **** myself and threw my brew everywhere. I am very very pissed off as I clean the mess up and when I find the F*cker I am going to get medeival on its ass. This is where all my memories come flooding back from Infants school, in the corner of the playground where the wind deposited crisp bags and leaves, this is where the richest supply of victims for dismemberment is to be found, first you find a victim then you remove a leg, then another and pretty soon it hasnt got a leg to stand on, then one wing goes and then the other, muhahahahahah

Then Martin Bullivant (Class Mentalist with an odd shaped head) will eat it for a dare, even if he isnt hungry, at least it distracts him from doing the mooney dance.

What is it with these horrible things "Tipula Paludosa"
, they lurk everywhere, you move something and several of the buggers launch out, always one in the bathroom along with the Moth/Vulcan Bomber hybrid that inhabits the folds of the curatins and is even more alarming, especially if you go for a pee in the middle of the night and it decides to sort the lightbulb out 'ITS THE MOON, ITS THE MOON, I TELL YOU ITS THE MOON' I hear them shout as I sacrifice a towel to 'moth skids', I tell you love they are from the Moth not me !

Then you feel guilty as you bid them farewell with a final flush after twenty minutes of attack, attack swat, buzz, flutter, wait, wheres he gone, THERES THE F*CKER, you swat as hard as you can


AND IT COMES BACK FOR MORE....

You get asked what you are doing by the missus, but you dont care, its personal now, its taunting you, you hold the towel tight and consider a Lynx attack but he's to quick, swat, swat, swat, the room spins, he's gone again, you pant and scan the room and see him settle on the bathroom cabinet, got you now you dusty little f*cker

The towel is now moist with your sweat and your reactions have been honed over the past hour, you line up and make your strike, oh my god, missed the target but have dislodged a bottle of Boots Aromatherapy Lavender and Patchouli bath oil, it falls

Not quick enough, the bottle strikes the sink and explodes, it was nearly full and its everywhere and it stinks, forget it your rage moves onto a new plane. you strike again and again dislodging every item in the bathroom, the light fitting swings moodily and you notice your adversary has become caught in the puddle of water that gathers in the bath, a quick twist of the taps and surfs up.

The its time to retire back to bed to reflect upon the battle and look at the lessons learnt, for next time.


There is a new strain that has come in from America, it cant sing but wears mink and big gold jewellery, guess what its called ?


[Edited by J4CKO - 9/9/2003 11:07:48 PM]

puff daddy longlegs??? perchance

BB:)

They are crane flies! My pup is going mental chasing them :D

Have you been on the Bricanyl? ;)

Yeah, yeah, we believe you. :p