No! It's a can of Greene King IPA.
Last night I was at war once again, only this time...
my lovely wildflower meadow turned into killing fields.
What has made me, a girl who can't even step on an ant turn into this serial killer?
This... that's what!
Last night I snapped when confronted with an army of slugs of all sizes, colours and hues.
I must confess I had my war games organised before I stepped outside. Hubs had had a can of beer before dinner so... the trap was set.
Carefully I peeled each and every cotton-picking slug off my by now fading fast Nicotianas. Neatly I posted them through the opening on the top of the can, gave them a quick cha cha cha in the dregs and moved on and on and on.
With hands covered with slime...
and this is the bit I feel awful about...
I then added insult to injury by squirting washing-up liquid into the can and topping up with warm water.
I carefully placed the offending hand grenade on the top of two metal ammunion cases in the garden and retired for the night.
At the kitchen sink the slime on my hands I scrubbed with anti-bacterial hand wash.
"Out damned spot! Out I say!
Still it clung on.
Imperial Leather... ditto
Pears soap... ditto
By this time I was getting decided scared by my cold hearted killing...
Would it ever go?
Showering with a loofah with aloe shower gel did eventually do the trick.
As I climbed into my murderer's bed with hands as soft as a babies bum three thoughts occurred to me.
1. This slug slime obviously has magic properties because my skin had never felt so soft and smooth.
2. Should I when battle commences tonight rub the offending substance on my face in order to iron out the wrinkles?
3. On a more positive note, I wondered whether I should see if the chemist sells nicotine patches for slugs?
*
Last night I snapped when confronted with an army of slugs of all sizes, colours and hues.
I must confess I had my war games organised before I stepped outside. Hubs had had a can of beer before dinner so... the trap was set.
Carefully I peeled each and every cotton-picking slug off my by now fading fast Nicotianas. Neatly I posted them through the opening on the top of the can, gave them a quick cha cha cha in the dregs and moved on and on and on.
With hands covered with slime...
and this is the bit I feel awful about...
I then added insult to injury by squirting washing-up liquid into the can and topping up with warm water.
I carefully placed the offending hand grenade on the top of two metal ammunion cases in the garden and retired for the night.
At the kitchen sink the slime on my hands I scrubbed with anti-bacterial hand wash.
"Out damned spot! Out I say!
Still it clung on.
Imperial Leather... ditto
Pears soap... ditto
By this time I was getting decided scared by my cold hearted killing...
Would it ever go?
Showering with a loofah with aloe shower gel did eventually do the trick.
As I climbed into my murderer's bed with hands as soft as a babies bum three thoughts occurred to me.
1. This slug slime obviously has magic properties because my skin had never felt so soft and smooth.
2. Should I when battle commences tonight rub the offending substance on my face in order to iron out the wrinkles?
3. On a more positive note, I wondered whether I should see if the chemist sells nicotine patches for slugs?
*
You do realise that in your next life you will be a slug.
ReplyDeleteLeaving you with that thought.......
x
You certainly gave them an interesting cocktail to guzzle on!
ReplyDeleteLisa x
Think I'll call a truce tonight, not the playing football with the enemy type. Only because it's tipping with rain and after fish soup and two packets of wotsits and two glasses of rose - I'm mellow! Enjoy your weekend faithful pals, LLX
ReplyDeleteOooh, wotsits and rose, you are a posh bird!
ReplyDeleteWishing you a great weekend (it's gonna be wet so you'd better be prepared to face battle with The Slugs).
xx