Man, they’re annoying. Just when you think you’ve seen the last of them, they appear again from nowhere, imposing themselves on our lives with a pompous arrogance rarely seen outside the world of professional football. No, I’m not talking about political elections, rather that other bane of our lives - the humble mosquito.
I need to say from the outset that I’m lucky - mosquitos don’t bite me. Largely, I imagine, because it would send them soaring over the drink-flying limit at the first swallow. (I’m tempted here to make a ‘one swallow doesn’t make a summer’ joke, but the deadline for the article is fast approaching and I can’t refine the gag in time - you’ll have to do it yourselves).
They do, however, buzz in my ear at night, seeming to have honed the skill of waiting for that perfect moment when I’m balanced lightly on the cusp of deep slumber before performing a deft flypast of my lughole, presumably carrying a Playmobil hedge trimmer and doing some kind of loop-the-loop just to rub it in.
It’s a well-known fact that only the female mosquito buzzes and bites and generally causes a nuisance (you may draw your own conclusions, I wouldn’t dare), while the male of the species sits in a shed somewhere with an old train set and a six pack of real ale. Well, I can’t remember the exact details but it’s something like that.
For the people who do get bitten - and, boy, do those poor souls get bitten - all of this is no laughing matter, I’m afraid. Swollen limbs, big red eyelids, angry skin blotches and all kinds of other, painful, symptoms plague them throughout the mosquito season. Sprays, plug-ins and creams can help a little but, judging by some of the customers who come into the pub, they offer scant comfort in the long run.
I’m surprised, then, that no-one has ever tried black pudding as a remedy - it’s basically blood in the form of a truncheon. The first step would be to leave some on a dish by the doors and windows. If you’re lucky, they’ll pause to snack on it on the way in and forget all about you. If they don’t, you can just pick it up and smack them over head with it a couple of times before retiring to enjoy a full English breakfast.
I believe they call that a win-win situation.