Saturday, October 18, 2008

Why wi needz an lolcat in diz house. Why it's never nice to have a cockroach sitting next to you in bed. Why slugs like curry.

Them mices should make their own damn sandwiches. It's not fair is it? Frozen bread, y'see, youse has to leave it to de-frostify. Obviously you're aware of the random creatures that rush across the kitchen floor every day now and again. But the bread'll be okay up there on the ------

O! mY SHITing GoD!!!! The little twatter!

Here is the scene - I'm coming downstairs to do some basic making a drink/having a late night snack - carrying a cup n plate in one hand - flick on the light with the other - glancing into the kitchen in that way you do when all you're expecting to see are the usual kitcheny objects and the only movement you're expecting is the gentle throbbin/buzzin of the Frigidaire ----- c0ck in fLAmin Sh1tingtons!!! WanK pL0p!!!

There it is runnin across the cabinets - runnin towards the cooker to get back down to the ground - then seein me and runnin in the opposite direction. Hidin behind the spices, probably eatin my cumin the little spice lovin vermin. I do the only thing I can do & grab a wooden spoon. And a cup, just in case. I have no idea what I am going to do but I will I WILL not let the little fooker get away with this. I could cope with him/her - let's go with him - as we're gonna go mano-a-mano - I could cope with him runnin round the floor picking up bits of carrot & grains of rice. Fine. It's almost symbiotic. Like those little fish that swim around after sharks pickin up the morsels of dead human. It's only fair. Waste not want not. But when he starts havin a bite out of tomorrow's packed lunch - boy, you just stepped OVER THE LINE!!!!!!!!!

It's like a sandwich 9/11. The twin baguettes. Wrapped in plastic, on the counter: not on the floor, not crumbs. This is a direct attack on me. A flagrant abuse of inter-species entente cordiale. It was I think round about nine minutes to eleven so it's not even a joke.

It was a Black Swan event. There was no going back now. The parade of *humane* traps that littered my bedroom and the kitchen. The joking *slightly annoyed* attitude I had taken to their insurgent activities around the house could continue no longer. It was time to get medieval on his ass - with a wooden spoon & a Cinderella mug.
I poked at the cumin with the spoon. I shoved the stick angrily. Nothing. Then again. Then a blur of brown fur and I just don't know what happened. It was all too quick.

Basically nothing happened. The mouse terrorist lived to feast another day. Somehow he wedged his way out behind the spice rack and disappeared to his den. WHERE HE HOPEFULLY LIVES ALONE > CHASTE & VIRGINAL...

But let's be honest. This isn't the first time I've had visitors in this house - and I don't mean exchange students from Norway...

This is my house. This is my life, apart from the big dress & the singing.

But with added kitchen slugs. Where they come from I have no idea, but there they are every night like a troop of commandos, crawlin on their bellies across the kitchen floor and up the the cabinets, desperate to paint some abstract expressionist silver trails all over the wok, chopping boards, pizza trays. Anything recently washed or put away in the cupboard next to the sink.

I'm sure they would like to help. They'd be good on silver. Set em to work and the little blighters will slowly shine up your sporting trophies, jewellry & expensive silver bric-a-brac. Unfortunately I don't own any silver. Not even a silver bullet in case of werewolf attack

[Note to self: given the current species warfare in the house, it might be a good idea to stock up on anti-werewolf protection.]

O, but this news just in: slugs also enjoy a nice bit of cake or even a spot of vegetable curry. Though they may have been put up to it by the mouseian hordes. A couple of nights previously, I'd made a massive wok full of veg splodge chillied up to resemble a curry concoction. Came down to wash places & put any left-over food into the fridge and who do I find silkily sliding their way up the side of the pan? Huh? Hmmm? At least these blighters weren't fast enough to make a getaway.

Pass me the salt, or would you prefer me to sling you out the window? I don't think you have any choice my friends. Try to eat my curry = get salted like a kipper... die die die##########

Previously of course we (I) had the cockroach problem. Loads of the fuuckers. Just everywhere. Get up at night and it was like living in a heavily populated shared house. Like you'd have to remember to put clothes on to go to the toilet - well shoes at least, cos you don't wanna be steppin on em barefooted.

I got the council in for that one. They told me: you live in a terraced house. There's nothing you can do. They'll come in whatever. Nice. I bought a thousand tubes of filler & filled everywhere. Every crack n slither of gap between floorboards n wall. It has helped. It's been a while since I've returned from brushing my teeth to see a cockroach perched on my pillow. It's not a restful sight. It just... isn't.

Well, I can laugh about it now but at the time it was terrible... except - it's not over is it?

I've just trapped a mouse in the bathroom. Was it the kitchen mouse or does this one live in the bathroom exclusively? Does she eat soap? I trapped her in a bucket and set her free down the road. So she'll probably wander back into the mosque on the end of the terrace row. Get bored in there cos there's nothing to eat and work her way back here round about next Tuesday. O well, it's certainly an adrenaline shot when you're sitting down and relaxing in the bath and a little brown critter goes shooting across the lino-ed floor. O, I love it of course. It's like living in an episode of *I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here* except not in the least...

I've used poison, glue traps, old fashioned traps, humane traps, weird homemade traps. I have a network of obstacles under my wardrobe that they just walk past. Like they know. A nice bit of oatcake they'll eat it if you leave it on a shelf, but put it on the floor in a trap: ignored.

On second thoughts, I don't need a cat; I need a pigeon. Or a weasel. Yeh, or a badger might do the job. I might run a poll & ask for advice and get my imaginary reader to vote.


  1. You. Have. Slugs. In. Your. House????



    Have irrational fear of slugs, reluctant to walk on grass if raining, slugs in house is worst fear imaginable. Shudder. Ugh.


    Mice are quite cute if you're super efficient with steel reinforced boxes for your food and dettol for everything else. They LOVE soap. Put cheese in the bath, they can't climb out and you can scoop them in a box.

    Cats do work.

    Insanely cute film.

  2. cheese in the bath could be an idea of supreme genius. and if i had really big spider in the bath they could fight the mice. this is gonna be great!

  3. House pest consultancy fee: £1540