Carnage August 2, 2006Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
It’s war in the BiB household. No, nothing nasty on the personal front. Just an ongoing but increasingly bitter offensive between me and the flies. They appear to have laid low for the seriously scorching weather and have now ambushed just as I was caught napping. The arses. Being a homosexual, I am, it goes without saying, incapable of doing any sport that involves kicking a ball. Or throwing a ball, come to that. To be honest, I’m hopeless at racquet sports too, but I wasn’t, at least, utterly filled with horror at the thought of giving them a go. I was once – or perhaps more often – beaten 6-0 6-0 by my ex at tennis, but our relationship survived the mauling – for a while – and I didn’t retire hurt at 5-0 down in the second set, as some unscrupulous professionals are known to do.
Tennis was abandoned for diplomatic reasons and the only time I stepped onto a court with the ex again was to play badminton. In a foursome. The shame. Even if one of the other two people was my sister. I consistently missed the shuttlecock for the first fifteen minutes but vaguely got the hang of it after that and leapt around like nobody’s business. And just as well, for Danes have entered my life since then and one is bound to have a badminton racquet thrust into one’s hand on any summer trip to Denmark with almost the same speed one is forced to take a drink.
And I can see that honing my badminton skills has greatly improved my mastery of the fly-swat. Fuck, I’m good at it. During last year’s hostilities, I may have waited for the enemy to alight on some solid, not-flapping-in-the-summer-breeze object before moving in for the kill… And missing, and then seeing them buzz off – though not in the way I would have liked – happily to torment me another day. Whereas now I’m happy to bludgeon them to death without having thought tactics for a single second. I’m thinking I might invest in a fly-swat for every room, or perhaps even two. My speed now means I could happily massacre with both hands.
Leaves an awful splodge on white surfaces though, this murder lark.
(‘Death to Flies’ image taken from here.)