I have just cling-filmed a hairy bluebottle fly and buried it in the window box alongside the sea slug. A huge bumbling idiot of a thing that had been buzzing around all morning.
THWACK!!! I got the bastard full force in the face and sent him colliding into the window. “BZZZzzzZZzzZzZzzZZ” it crawled around stunned two or three legs missing. I imagined it was John picking himself up with his Costello glasses all broken and askew. THWAP! And his delicate little belly split open and spewed out a thick yellowish gunge. I stood looking down at My Darling Love. Three seconds ago it was life, a living flying creature, and now it is nothing but a splodge of belly, brains and arsehole. For a moment I felt sad, and then horrified. From out of it's abdomen 32 tiny little lavae emerged, crawling quickly away in all directions. It was like watching some creepy stop-motion animation film. I took no pleasure in the 'THWAP' massacre that followed, it was just something that had to be done. Anyhow, they would never have survived, not that small and out in the open. The birds would have had them before noon... I'm absolutely sure of it.