Some People .....

Had a call the other day. " Is this the Pest Control? " Yes, ma'm, it is. What can I do for you?

" Well, ye see; I have fleas, in my garden. My Dog goes out there and he gets fleas. "

I mean; What The Fuck is That all about?! What's she expecting Me to do? Go round there and scorched earth an entire fucking acre of grass? 'Fleas in the garden'.

No, mad woman. You're in fucking Denial! You have fleas. Your property has fleas. There's probably tiny red spots on ye fresh, clean sheets in the morning and ye ankles are itching like wild fire. That I could deal with. And I could advise ye about treating ye Dog too.

But, would ye listen? No. Because ye so whacked out on the prospect of accepting such facts of life that ye'd simply remain convinced that they Are in ye garden. And that anything I did was a panacea and a way of getting money off ye.

Of course, I should have nipped round with the FicamW and done a treatment and talked to her about the life cycle of fleas and so forth. I just can't be bothered. Too much like hard work for the price.

Rodents? Things that go bump in the night? Feral cats? That's my sort of thing. Fleas 'in gardens', Electric Fly Killers? I leave shit like that to the other guy, down the road. I hope the pair of them meet up and are each very happy.

" Fleas in the Garden. " I advised her to keep the grass short. I'm not completely heartless; That'll help prevent the poor Dog picking up Ticks next. And I don't want That call either!