Reasons I Hate Summer: Flies

Flies are evil b@st@rds. They are evil enough when there isn’t a heat wave, but extreme heat brings on a whole new level of evilness, no?

Bins stink. It’s part of being a bin, but the heat is making the bins extra-stinky and it’s attracting flies by the trillions. This wouldn’t be as much of a problem if my bins were at the end of a very long garden, but I live in a terraced house with a very small back-yard so my bins are well within whiffing distance – as are everybody else’s.

At this time of year there is always the danger of maggot infestations. Makes your skin crawl doesn’t it? Take it from one who knows: when you’ve battled the maggot-massive, you NEVER want to do it again!

Plus, it puts you off eating boiled rice. For ever.

You get me?

The fly is Ninja fast. You’ve opened and closed your bin lid in record time, but there’s always one who’s the Usian Bolt of the fly world. It’s flown in before you know it and if it’s a female, she’ll dump around 75-100 eggs onto the bags of rotting food. The next day, you wander out in your slippers with a bag full of potato peelings and you see that some tit has thrown loose rice in your bin. This isn’t your doing. You don’t throw food in the bin like her up the road. You’re posherer. You’re just about to throw a strop when you notice that the rice is ALIVE.

You’re torn between wanting to scream in horror and not wanting to draw attention to your BIN OF SHAME because having maggots is like having nits, as in, it can happen to anybody, but nobody wants to admit to it, right? Luckily for me, I’ve got a massive manhole. NOT a euphemism! I’m referring to the manhole in my back-yard which is indeed large enough to fit a man in should I ever need to conceal a body!

I am joking, of course.

Or am I?

Moving on..

Got a lil maggot problem? Chillax! (are people still saying that?) I have tips!

The Maggot Slaying Kit

  • A pair of Marigolds
  • Hot water
  • A massive bottle of industrial strength bleach
  • A brush that you’ll never want to use again
  • A bag to retch into

Don’t make the rookie mistake I did during the Great Maggot Infestation of 2015. I just hosed them down the drain. I didn’t kill them, innit? So some of them crawled up through the gaps in the flagstones and by ‘some’ I mean close on a hundred – all wriggling across my patio..

Maggots, EVERYWHERE!

For the Great Maggot Infestation of 2016, I was better prepared. I par-boiled the effers in the bin with a few shots of Domestos, then I swilled em down the drain.

Want to learn more about flies?

You know you do!

Fly Facts

1. Flies regurgitate digestive juices onto food so they can eat it. So if a fly lands on your quiche, it’s probably best to bin it. *boaks*

2. Rumour has it that flies do a poo EVERY time they land. (I’ll leave THAT one with you)

3. Flies are disease ridden arse-holes. Salmonella, E.coli. You name it, they spread it. For this reason, you should never leave food out uncovered. Not unless you want to defecate yourself dry?

4. Flies can walk upside down – coz they freakeh!

5. Flies have 360 degree vision (much like my mother) so they can see behind them. This would explain why the arseholes fly off whenever I creep up on them with a can of Raid.

6. Flies live for about 30 days, though their lifespans are shortened dramatically if they fly into my house.

7. Flies can lay up to 500 eggs in their lifetime – most of them in my bin.

8. Flies are agile and fast. That’s why you can drive yourself demented trying to swat the motherfunglers with a tea-towel.

9. Flies lay their eggs on rotting food and poo. Flies round shit, right? This is so that their offspring have something yummy to munch on when they hatch.

10. BRB – Gone to vomit.

Yo. Humanz. Am gonna crap on your Quiche!

So you see, there is much to despise about flies. Those buztards are bad news. That said, I do try to give them a fighting chance. I will open a window or a door, but if they don’t take the hint they get taken down with a tea-towel or a blast (or three) of Raid.

Meanwhile, here’s the question you’ve always wanted to know the answer to.

Why do flies do circles under your lampshade?

The flies patrol well-defined airspaces underneath landmarks like lampshades. … Male flies approach a landmark from below and, in the absence of other flies, settle to patrol an airspace close to the landmark. A second male approaching the same landmark chases, or is chased away by, the patrolling fly when it comes too close and may eventually settle to patrol 10–30 cm below the airspace occupied by the first fly. … The position of male patrolling stations relative to the landmark suggests that females might arrive at landmarks from the side (and not from below, as males do), thus crossing the dorsal visual field of patrolling males.

Source: Jochen Zeil. The territorial flight of male houseflies (Fannia canicularis L.) Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology. August 1986, Volume 19, Issue 3, pp 213-219

In simple terms, it’s blokes fighting over girls up town on a Saturday night, innit?

Fly Porn.

But enough of fly mating rituals. Back to fly annihilation, yes?

Prevention is key to keep maggots at bay, so here are some tips.

Fly Control Tips

The first step in fly control is exclusion and sanitation. If your house is a massive bin, and you like to have your windows open – YOU’RE GOING TO ATTRACT FLIES! However, even if you are shit-hot with sanitation and you’d rather drown in a pool of your own sweat than open a window, you will still get the odd fly who fancies its chances, so here’s what you can do.

  1. If you do find a fly in the house, try to entice it out of the window or door. Life is life, right?
  2. Failing the humane approach, confuse the shit out of it by using two rolled up newspapers instead of one.
  3. If that doesn’t work, give it a murderous blast of Raid.

Now, I am so fly-aware, those arsewipes don’t have time to shit, let alone reproduce!

I take no pleasure from being the fly-finder general. I think it’s sad to watch any living thing die, but we have to remember that flies are not cutsie kittens. Or fluffy wuffy gerbils. They are nefarious spreaders of disease. They will crap on your food and make the world fall out of your arse. Or they will drive you to the brink of insanity with their incessant BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZING. Plus they really know how to take the piss when it comes to picnics and BBQs. You get me?

Roll on Autumn, I say.

 

Summertime Blues

On the day I was born THIS was number one in the Top 40.

“Have a drink, have a drive”

Have a crash?

Side-burns and demijohn as a percussion instrument aside, it is a catchy tune, but I’d rather have hung on in there for a few more weeks and slithered out to Elvis Presley’s The Wonder of You. Then again, it could have been Tom Jones’ Daughter of Darkness, which some light say, would have been more apt.

It was summer. The days were long. The jeans were flared and summers seemed to go on FOREVER, as happens when you’re on child-time because child-time is different to real time. Everyone knows that, right?

The skies were bluer. The clouds puffier and the sun cracked the pavements EVERY SINGLE DAY!

Then there were family holidays..

I’m fairly sure we went away most years but I only remember a few holidays and judging by sulky chops on most of the photographs, i.e. me, I can only imagine that I was my usual shit self during each and every one of them. I can only apologise to my parents who no doubt sacrificed all year in order to give us a nice holiday. If they were alive today, my autism diagnosis would maybe go some way to explain my behaviour…

I tried hard to enjoy holidays but being in unfamiliar places (and sleeping in strange beds) sent my anxiety orbital. The beds often smelled funny and had, er, unidentifiable stains, and at that time my olfactory sensitivities were monumental. Also, I couldn’t verbalise my problems so this reflected in my behaviour. I was either ‘showing off’, ‘naughty’ or ‘moody’. Moody, I’ll hold my hand up to but I wasn’t ever intentionally naughty and I was too introverted to ‘show off’. What I was, was overwhelmed…

It also pissed me off how flies used to do that circles round the light fittings. Why do they do that? Daddy Long Legs were much bigger when I was a child. They. Were. HUGE. Spiders were the size of COWS and the world was against me in general. Despite all this, I was supposed to enjoy myself?

Sometimes we stayed in B & B’s. I HATED that. It was bad enough being in a strange place with my own family without having to cope with being around strange people too? Strange sociable people who really annoyed me with their constant, “Are you going to give me a smile?’

No. Eff off.

I didn’t say the F word, obvs, as Mum would have ended my life, but I certainly thought it. Why couldn’t they understand that I looked miserable because I FELT miserable?

Then there were the days out..

If I was lucky there would be a plan and I’d know where I was going (sort of) but more often than not Mum and Dad did the ‘spontaneous thing’ which cremated my brain. The result?

This.

Beach days were the worst.

What child doesn’t like the beach?

Me.

I like it now (when it’s empty) but not then. Never then..

I considered it a breach of my human rights to be made to take my clothes off on a beach in front of strangers.

“Who do you think’s looking at you?!”

Well, I don’t know, Mother, perverts perhaps?

To be fair, most children stripped off without a care in the world but I wasn’t like them was I? I was a self-aware misfit. I refused to remove so much as a sock without Mum standing in front of me with the biggest bath towel we had and even then I tried to keep my knickers on under my bikini bottoms. Yes, I was that girl.

One bikini in particular stands out in my memory. I was about 4 or 5 but it was way too big for me. In those days, you had to grow into stuff so nothing fitted. The top was more like a scarf and the bottoms were saggy-arsed which was dead amusing, apparently. The relief when I was upgraded to a swimsuit was IMMENSE!

The whole beach experience was an onslaught to the senses. The smells. The noise. The stimuli..

We had a little Calour Gas stove and I liked the smell of the gas. Possibly inhaled more than what was healthy for me, though. Then there was Ambre Solaire which Mum and Dad slavered over themselves. They’d sit and sizzle in their deck-chairs, havin’ a smoke and drinking countless cups of tea and be in some kind of heaven while me and my brother whinged like buggery – him because he was stuck with his moody little sister and me because I wanted to be sand free and back HOME with my Enid Blyton’s.

I feel guilty about it now because Mum and Dad worked hard to keep us fed, clothed and living in a nice clean home. They deserved a nice holiday but I always managed to spoil it for them, not that it was EVER deliberate.

When it comes to weather – THAT summer of 76 overrules all other summers in my entire memory.

In the Summer of 76, the average house cost £12,704. Wages were about £72 p/w (in those days they came home via a brown envelope) and a loaf of bread cost 19 pence. 19p!!! You could get a huge bag of sweets for like 5p. Imagine that, Kids?!

It was, like, SOOOOOOOO hot, the tarmac on the roads melted. Google it!

Chopper bikes, Space Hoppers, Quosh (warm), water shortages, IRA bombings, unemployment, flares, platform shoes, white dog poo, really great music, really shite music, melty roads and deviant DJs. The 70’s had the lot. I don’t remember the serious stuff because I was just a kid. What I do remember is how uncomfortable I felt in general. Summer is supposed to be fun but it’s not that simple for sensitive souls is it? Plus, I have to remove my cardi, which is like asking an NT to remove a kidney.

Dare I say, roll on Autumn?

“Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.”~ George R.R Martin ~ Game of Thrones