I'm only writing this blog post because I wanted to write that first sentence. Now I have to think of how to carry on and write an interesting post about the weevils who are weaving their evil weevily way through our flour and cereals and sugar.
Firstly, then, while I'm thinking, here's a picture of a flour weevil. I've had to get it off Google because when I asked our weevils to pose for a photo, they went all coy on me and said if they'd wanted to become famous they'd have auditioned for X Factor, thank you very much.
|Fran the judge said 'It's a no from me.'|
Here's a more realistic picture of what we saw in our flour when we looked closely.
Sorry. As I googled 'weevil' I was reminded of this guy from my childhood who leapt over buses on his motorbike. Do you remember him? Don't you think it would have been fun if he'd actually been a pest that lived in flour and leapt over buses at the weekend? Evel Knieval the Weevil.
Anyway, this was the picture I really wanted, although our weevils were really not this obvious. I think these weevils are wearing mascara, eye liner and black underwear.
A purification ritual faces us. We have to empty the cupboards and throw away all the dry goods (making a trillion weevils homeless, but, hey, they're basically squatting). Then we need to disinfect the cupboards and spray them with anti-weevil poison, hardening our hearts to the weevily screams and death rattles of any left behind weevils, clinging to the sides of the cupboards with their sticky little paws. After this, all the new dry goods need to go into weevil-proof plastic containers. We are going to be solely responsible for Mr Tupperware's good year.
I have to say, I've never been given a better reason for not doing all the essay marking that's waiting for me. Usually I plead 'I have to iron the socks' or 'I have to make sure all my books are in alphabetical order' but having to commit weevilocide is a much more interesting excuse.
I have in my mind an irresistible image of a rock band, made up of four of the above-named pests, strutting their stuff on the stage and singing 'Weevil weevil rock you!'
I was going to leave you with a parody of the Winston Churchill speech 'Weevil fight them on the beaches, weevil fight them on the .....' but then I googled it and found out he said 'We shall.' That's a bummer.