Bored of the Flies
Spring has sprung down this way, with another summer of hellish 40 degree days simmering in the distance. And as ever, the heralds of heat have arrived first - the flies.
Walking down the street now means incessant divebombing from the buzz-tards and the need to self-consciously flap your hands around your head to keep them away. Even then you're not shot of them: the lazy sods just land on your back and hitch a ride home, detaching and swooping around once they're past the flyscreens on the doors and windows.
So tomorrow I'm tooling up with spray cans and going on the rampage. Unfortunately - because I know at least one of you will be thinking it and snickering - I won't be buying a hat with corks on it though. I mean honestly, how daft would that look?
(A bit less daft than the spastic swatting dance as I walk down the road, probably).
Walking down the street now means incessant divebombing from the buzz-tards and the need to self-consciously flap your hands around your head to keep them away. Even then you're not shot of them: the lazy sods just land on your back and hitch a ride home, detaching and swooping around once they're past the flyscreens on the doors and windows.
So tomorrow I'm tooling up with spray cans and going on the rampage. Unfortunately - because I know at least one of you will be thinking it and snickering - I won't be buying a hat with corks on it though. I mean honestly, how daft would that look?
(A bit less daft than the spastic swatting dance as I walk down the road, probably).
posted by Pete Kempshall at 6:24 PM
1 Comments:
Apparently, hang small clear bags of water from your ceiling to combat flies. They see magnified versions of themselves in the reflective H2O and it scares them off.
Never tried it meself for fear of them breaking and the house being tunred into the olympic sized swimming pool from Hi De Hi
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