Let It Bee

Commencing today’s observations, I’m perched in my garden beneath a resplendent West Yorkshire sun. The romantic within me raising a smile as I draw poetry from my accompanying chromatic flora and fauna landscape.

This ocular sonnet, via the conduit between eye and area of the brain which processes pictures, leading me to conclude (despite my frequent suggestions to the contrary) life isn’t that bad after all….. Or it would do if a flaming wasp wasn’t sporadically bugging me with it’s apparent re-enactment of Bomber Command’s WWII raids.

Footnote – To clarify, when writing ‘a flaming wasp’ I’m of course using flaming as an adjective to add force to the noun. Not indicating the insect is in flames while making it’s sporadic confrontational darts in my direction. A trick which, although sounding a thrilling watch, bears far too much personal jeopardy for my liking.

If truth be told, I’ve no idea if the insect ‘pressing my buttons’ is the same critter on each attack. It’s speed of mission making it difficult for GJ Strachan to make an informed judgement on the protagonist’s identifying features.

For all I know, there maybe an army of these pesky insects taking turns to buzz around my bonce with a view to raising irk levels. The only thing I can say with 100% certainty it’s a wasp (either singular or as part of a bigger group) which’s bugging the bejesus out of me.

When I say 100%, I’m throwing in the caveat that it looks very much like a wasp. The only way I’d suggest I could be could be wrong is if this flying rascal is a bee in a wasp outfit. His mission to surreptitiously get his daily brio fix from indulging in mischievous wasp-like behaviour, without blackening the name of his own more popular Apoideas.

That being said, with bees ordinarily being of greater stature than wasps, it’s unlikely that they’d be able to pull off such a ruse. Actually, even if bees were smaller than their irritating cousins, I’d venture the logistics of getting hold of a wasp fancy dress outfit would be slim to non-existent.

Although not a topic I’ve researched with any great, or indeed any, vigour, I’d wage a fair bit of cash no fancy dress outlets exist which affords bees opportunity to procure fancy Dres attire. I’d bet further that there’d be utter indifference within the Apoidean world at adorning these quirky outfits.

In fact, I’d go one further in positing there are no members of the animal or insect kingdoms (other than humans) who bear any aspirations of indulging in such clothing frippery. Some may argue chameleons oft change their colour for camouflage purposes, but I’d argue the scenarios aren’t the same.

In the unlikely event bees did have access to fancy dress outfitters, I’d like to think they’d select something a bit more imaginative than a wasp outfit, which is practically identical to their day-to-day attire?

A completely different look such as, oh I don’t know, say, a Scooby Doo outfit. A choice which’d make a refreshing change from appearing like their similarly black and yellow hooped insect cousins.

I’d be seriously disappointed in bees, who incidentally I bear the utmost admiration for, if their dressing up desires only stretched as far as wanting to play out their lives for a day as a wasp or hornet! To my mind, a choice that’d display the thinnest of imaginative gruel on their part.

Anyhow, enough of this northern Englishman’s blather. I’m off indoors to escape from antagonisation from another insect, which rather bizarrely appears to be dressed in a Scooby Doo outfit!!!

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