A humorous look at bodily ills and daily woes, and tips from someone who has suffered everything from arthritis to athlete's foot.
Sunday, 11 May 2008
My reader Jacula suggested a slug pub as a way of dealing with the pests by natural means. The method is, slug drinks beer, slug gets drunk, slug can't get out and drowns happy. Mr Grumpy insisted on emptying an entire can of Carling into an empty paint pot. I used a lid as a saucer, thinking they would be able to climb in and get drunk more easily. Singing, "I'll tak the high road and ye'll tak the low road" in a bad Highlands accent that sounded like Scouse meets Glaswegian on a Saturday night, I set out the pubs, complete with sign.
One inquisitive black slug immediately started investigating, so I wiped a little beery trail across the deck and up the side of the paint pot. It took him some while to reach the rim of the pot, but he made it. Meanwhile, an army was advancing on the Low Road pub. This morning, I was surprised to see that the High Road pub had claimed many more victims than the Low Road. I think they were so drunk that they couldn't get back up the side and out again whereas, with the Low Road, they were still able to weave a sticky route back to wherever they came from. Or my violas.