In the 20 years I lived in Australia as a lad, surrounded by deadly snakes and spiders, at no stage did I experience such horror as dealing with the range of insidious little critters that the UK can offer.
A case in point, the last few months we've been stalked by bed bugs, a tiny little bitch of an insect that pounces on you from nowhere and drinks your blood, leaving you itchy like a bastard in the morning. We've had pest control people in, twice, and fumigated the flat over and over again, but the hardy little f@ckers just won't die. They seem to like it. 'More poison please, it makes us fertile'.
Well, we're close to emigrating to somewhere safer like Australia - it's got that bad. Iu has the desperate look of a mad woman in her eyes, and I'm not sure there are enough pillows in the country before she sets upon them with aerosol and spray toxins, a lust for killing, and a mania to send their shredded carcasses into the bin.
Here's how last weekend went down.
Honestly, I might ask the hospital people if I can stay in overnight after my biopsy. Maybe for the week.
Understandable reaction to bed bugs