I should know better

October now, and really mild. I realise that it has been another year wtihout wasps. Not a single little stripy stinger.

Last year I heard a Rentokil man interviewed - he was lamenting the inexplicable crash in the wasp population in the tones of a man whose job was on the line. I was delighted, and am even more so that the depopulation has carried on.

I don`t care too much about wasp stings, but wasps and small dogs don`t mix. A well-placed sting can kill a puppy. So wasp eradication has always been essential. Most of the wasp nests I get here are underground, and the technique is to wait until dark, pour in a bottle of white spirit, chuck in a match and watch the show. Very efficient, apart from the year I burned down a tree........

Hanging nests are more problematic. Actually there is a simple way of getting rid of these, but it involves finding two men who are macho, have a deathwish or just want to impress women....not so difficult, then. Oh yes, and a dustbin. With a lid. And probably a ladder.

Macho climbs the ladder to within reach of the buzzing nest. He has a large, sharp knife.

Deathwish takes up a position immediately under the nest. He has the dustbin, with the lid off.

At this point fervent and fulsome encouragement and admiration are absolutely essential......that and the preparation for a sudden, very fast evacuation.

Then it all happens. Macho slices the nest free with one lunge. Deathwish catches it deftly in the dustbin as it falls and slams the lid on. It`s a scene worthy of Buster Keaton

Is it infallible?

Who are you kidding? When it goes wrong, though, there is always the traditional country remedy to fall back on.

Run like buggery.

My former neighbour, Old Peter, always had a serious wasp problem, due mainly to running a fruit farm. Frequently packing would be disturbed by the loud screams of women running in all directions. Often the striped vermin, knowing a good thing when they saw it, would build nests in the roof of the packing shed.

One day there were more alarms and excursions than usual, culminating in an enormous bang and a total evacuation. I ran over and asked Peter what had happened.

`Bloody wasps! A whole big nest up in the roof beams.`

`What happened?`

`I`d had enough. So I got the women out and just gave it both barrels of the twelve bore.`

I stood staring at the fleeing workforce, the scattered fruit, and the vast menacing cloud of smoky, apocalyptic wasps, under fire, totally confused and ready to sell their lives dearly.

Wasps are much easier to understand than men.