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May 28, 2008

The Wasp That Turned

Wasps. What practical use are they? What role in Nature's great Ghant chart do they play? If all the bees disappear (probably in some Adams-style pact with the dolphins) then it's widely accepted that we're royally screwed. Royally screwed with lashings of royal jelly heaped on top just to rub our noses in it. Serious bearded scientific megastars assure us that should all the bees vanish then man would probably only last a handful of years more. Even less if the vanishment occurred during Britain's Got Talent Live.

But seriously, if all the wasps went, what would happen?

Doctor Who: The Unicorn and the Wasp

They're useless at bridge, unable to locate Düsseldorf without the aid of a satnav and no good on a barbecue. If all the chickens eloped you'd not be able to pop down to Morrisons for a couple of wasp breasts (I'd love to see Alan Hanson extolling the virtues of cut price wasp meat on my telebox, that alone would make ITV 37% more bearable if I knew I was never more than 12 minutes away from someone from Clackmannanshire extolling the virtues of this week's wasp BOGOF offer). The generic meat kiev business would fold quicker than you could spout colony collapse disorder through a spluttering gob full of scrag end of wasp. And I hate them.

Massive bugs that would have makers of fly paper salivating all over their mandibles.

Of course the plaintive cry issued to any grown man afraid of anything vastly different in stature to himself is "you're much bigger than it, pull yourself together" (reminds me of the last time I came across Ronnie Corbett). Yes, I'm much bigger, but the last time I looked I wasn't equipped with a stinging device (and indeed the nearest I come to being that tooled up is the morning after a curry of volcanic proportions). And it's probably my repeated use of Doctor Who that made me susceptible to fear all insectoid life in the first place. Because if it's one thing they do well it's over-sized creepy crawlies. The back catalogue is littered with the sort of massive bugs that would have makers of fly paper salivating all over their mandibles.

Wincing whenever asked to hold a glass and a piece of card.

Piping Opposible mandibles at that. How else would one be able to hold a piece of lead piping? Unless you're secreting a fairly ferocious substance that actively promotes stickiness (we're getting back to that curry again) as an agent for wasp-committed murder, the piping is not going to be that practical. But because you're somehow imbued with a sense of Agatha Christie mysteries, and not with a sense of Bill Strutton novelizations, you've kinda gotta work with what you're given. The Vicar must have gotten some subconscious indications of his true nature over the last 40 years. Unable to handle sticky paper at the Sunday School craft event, wincing whenever asked to hold a glass and a piece of card, forever smashing his nose on a pane of glass when attempting to leave a room, an uneasy feeling whenever passing a paperboy with a rolled up news paper. You know, it's the little things that say, "Hey... I just might be a wasp". Which is about as convincing as anything that was served up in the last 10 minutes.

One box of man-sized tissues and 14 wanking sessions away from it's own collapse.

Doctor Could it be that there's an entire generation of 30-something Who fans out there who have telepathically imprinted their entire run of Target novelizations onto their unborn children? Is this a little like playing classical music to them whilst they're still in the womb? Are they going to be propelled out their mothers with an innate ability to identify a pleasant-open, young-old face whilst making a wheezing groaning sound? Have we created a generation of Terrence Dickses? Of course not, there's not Doctor Who fan who's managed to procreate yet. Talk about colony collapse disorder - before the resurrection of the show the entire fan community was one box of man-sized tissues and 14 wanking sessions away from it's own collapse. Do me a cumquat. We've all got more chance of copping off with a giant wasp.

Ah well, I'm looking forward to BombayCon'09 already...

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