I screamed like a girl.
Discussion
So there I am up in the loft trying and failing to make a successful join in the TV aerial coax cable. I noticed a couple of golf ball sized wasps nests under construction. Armed with a long peice of cane and an old fashion lead-light I destroyed the nests.
Que one very pissed queen wasp deciding to take revenge. With little room to maneuver due to the lake of any safe boards on which to stand, panic set in and I could hear mysel shouting at it at the top of my voice as I tryed to make a safe exit.
Oh the shame.
Now Mr's Colonel C is insisting I return armed with a can of flyspray in case the queen is still up there...
I am just going up now and may be some time..............
Que one very pissed queen wasp deciding to take revenge. With little room to maneuver due to the lake of any safe boards on which to stand, panic set in and I could hear mysel shouting at it at the top of my voice as I tryed to make a safe exit.
Oh the shame.
Now Mr's Colonel C is insisting I return armed with a can of flyspray in case the queen is still up there...
I am just going up now and may be some time..............
Absolutely gay.
Once, I was attacked by a few very territorial and aggressive bees from some hives that a family friend had put in one of our fields. He paid rent in honey. It was all very River Cottage.
Anyway, a couple of the bees had embedded themselves in my hair and were buzzing angrily. I started to panic but didn't want to be stung on my fingers either, so, somewhat caught up in the moment, I tried to brush the bees off with whatever implement I had in my hand.
In this case, a cricket bat.
My father later expressed his relief that I had bees in my hair, because he was concerned at what other explanation lay behind me running in circles, looking in fear at the sky, swearing, hitting myself on the head with a cricket bat.
But pretty manly all the same. I reckon.
Once, I was attacked by a few very territorial and aggressive bees from some hives that a family friend had put in one of our fields. He paid rent in honey. It was all very River Cottage.
Anyway, a couple of the bees had embedded themselves in my hair and were buzzing angrily. I started to panic but didn't want to be stung on my fingers either, so, somewhat caught up in the moment, I tried to brush the bees off with whatever implement I had in my hand.
In this case, a cricket bat.
My father later expressed his relief that I had bees in my hair, because he was concerned at what other explanation lay behind me running in circles, looking in fear at the sky, swearing, hitting myself on the head with a cricket bat.
But pretty manly all the same. I reckon.
Edited by captainzep on Tuesday 28th April 19:39
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