Sunday, 31 August 2008

Wasps 3 : The Quickening

2 months have passed. I have grown a beard. Not because of lack of access to shaving facilities, I have stuff in the flat. No, it is a beard of suffering. A beard of wasp enforced solitude. There are so many outside my windows that I am in constant darkness. I think I angered them a few weeks ago. Somehow one of them had got into the flat. I trapped it in the kitchen and hoped it would tire itself out and die. For 2 hours I sat and listened as it bounced into wall and window, before the sound stopped and I peered in. The wasp lay on its back, seemingly expired. I picked it up using my trusty Guardian and set it down on the table in front of the main window. The legs moved ever so slightly, as if in death throes and I bowed my head in respect. I could feel the hundreds of compound eyes on me and I felt obliged to allow their brother/sister a dignified death. Then it made a strong loud buzzing noise and instinct kicked in. In a flash I had lifted the paper and brought it down on the already mortally wounded beast, spreading it across the table like so much evil pate.

The noise of the wasps outside increased to a howl. I have just executed one of them, I thought, in cold blood no less. I remembered reading somewhere that when you squished a wasp, it left a scent that attracted other wasps. "Bent on revenge no doubt" I mumbled to myself. My god, what would they do to me now? In an effort to repair the damage already done, I scooped the remains of the fallen one into a match box and, head bowed, placed it on the window ledge before backing away.

Since then I have locked myself in the bathroom with only hastily grabbed fig rolls and hot chocolate granules to sustain me. Outside I can hear the wasps chewing through my cardboard defences, inching closer and closer to me. I feel like Saddam Hussain. I imagine myself as a sexy dictator of some sort of sexy Amazon land full of half naked women being sexy and stuff...woah. The sound of wasp outside my door has suddenly gotten louder. They are in the flat. The cardboard defences have failed me. The sound is deafening and I am now huddled behind the toilet, praying for a quick death.

Its morning. And what's more its quiet. I must've finally fallen asleep. I crawl across the floor to the bathroom door. I cannot hear a thing. I will risk a look. I carefully peel back the door and dart my head out. The first thing I notice is the distinct lack of wasps in the room. This is good. Next thing I notice is that my wooden table and chairs are gone. I really don't want to see the wasps that carried that stuff out, I think to myself moronically. I venture further into the room. Light is once more pouring into the flat and I notice that the matchbox containing The Unknown Wasp has gone. I turn to check the kitchen and there is someone there. Squealing like a large woman who has just seen david blaine remove his thumb and magically replace it, I fall back onto the carpet. "WHOTHFUCKARREYOUWHATTAREYOUDOINPLEASEDONTHURTME" I screech, bravely. No reply. The figure is not moving. I move cautiously forward until the light gives a better indication of what new terror I'm about to face.

It's me. It is a life size me made entirely of well chewed wood chippings. The statue depicts me holding a rolled up paper in one hand, and in the other, a matchbox. It is stunningly accurate apart from the antennae they have added to my head and the wings on my back. I run to the window. The wasps have gone. I hear birdsong, lawnmowers, and the cold, dead laughter of a child. I fall to my knees and weep sweet chocolatey, figgy tears of joy.

Tuesday, 19 August 2008

Wasps 2

It's been a few days now since the wasps came back. I managed to seal all possible entrances into my flat and have kept the windows shut. Still they gather outside my window. Buzzing around and occasionally bumping into the glass, like they are testing its resistance. I have not left the house since THEY came. Work called and I feigned illness the first day. After that I stopped answering the phone. I have to stay here. This is MY flat. If I go they may find a way in. What then? Eh? All my furniture chewed up and a huge uber-nest on my wall. Thats what then. Nooooo. Not this time you godless flying hitlers. I will prevail. I have been ordering pizza online and getting the pizza man to push them through the letterbox. So far this has been less than efficient. Most of the pizza toppings have been gathering in a little pepperoni pile outside my door. This has in turn attracted flies. As long as THEY don't smell it i'm ok. Last night I lay awake all night wondering....if THEY kept trying to get through my keyhole would evolution take over? Would they eventually breed a wasp capable of either coming through the keyhole or worse...a wasp that could function as a key and open my door, beckoning in the legions that await? What would that be called? Wey? Kasp? Kesp? At this point, 4 am apparently, my neighbor Mr. Hatred shouted through the wall. I really should develop an internal monologue of some sort. The walls are thin in this building.

Tuesday, 12 August 2008


Well…I knew they’d come back. Its wasp season once again in my flat. Last night I was forced to face 3 massive, stupid angry wasps with only the guardian (living up to its name) to defend myself with. They are getting in through a in my kitchen. The first one caught me off guard and I couldn’t figure out where it had come from. I have 3 different vents in the flat. so at 11.30 pm last night I was running around my small abode in my pants with a rolled up paper in one hand and cardboard and sellotape in the other. Furiously smacking the winged devils with the paper and sealing up the ventilation points with tape and cardboard. All the while chattering to myself and the wasps in a deranged whisper. “ohhh I’ll get ya, I’ll get ya, think you’re great, get through this hole now you stripy stingy bastards, fuck you wasps, I'll kill ya, I'll kill ya…”. I could almost hear the “plinky plonky crazy” music from The Shining in the background. So I’ve called landlords and they are sending in the cavalry. Should be all dead by tomorrow hopefully. As will I be, more than likely due to the lack of ventilation in my flat.

Saturday, 9 August 2008

Uneccessary Force

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Monday, 4 August 2008

Adam Buxton Excellence

Incidentally, I hope Morgan Freeman is ok. I think he's great. He would be a great loss.

Friday, 1 August 2008

Music I Am Currently Running Into The Ground

Here are some tremendous tunes I seem to be battering at the moment....

'Stay Positive' - The Hold Steady

'Frankie's Gun!' - The Felice Brothers

'Dancers At The End of Time' - Howlin' Rain

'The General Specific' - Band of Horses

'Things Ain't What They Used To Be' - The Black Keys

'Don't Pay No Mind' - The Congregation

'Sitting' - White Denim

'Dallas' - Johnny Winter

'Ring of Fire' - This Kid Named Miles

'Beat It' - Supergrass

'Feel Alright' - Steve Earle

'Berlin' - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

'Where The Bands Are' - Bruce Springsteen

'Mykonos' - Fleet Foxes

'Mr. E's Beautiful Blues (Butch 'n' Joey Remix)' - Eels

'I'll Be Creepin' - Free

'What New York Used To Be' - The Kills

'Do That There' - Lyrics Born

'Figaro' - Madvillain

'The Mask' - Dangerdoom feat. Ghostface Killah

'Squalor Victoria' - The National

'The Criminal Inside Me' - RL Burnside