Dear Senor Mosquito (and friends)….

It has to be said that we have not enjoyed the greatest of relationships in the past, have we?

Now, I’m not assigning blame or picking fault here but, over the course of several visits to areas inhabited by you and your kin, a number of things have become gradually apparent to me.

It seems that you and your airborne kind regard my exposed white bits as the equivalent of an all you can eat buffet. Little else would explain the way that you seem to hurl yourselves at me like swarms of demented kamikaze bombers on any given day.

You buzz and strafe me ad infinitum as I try and kick back in my hammock on some far away, palm splayed paradise. But you- you put the ‘parasite’ firmly into paradise. And, I am afraid, it is no longer funny or acceptable.

My attempts to swat you away have usually proven to be about as much use as a pair of knickers to a hooker at the start of Fleet Week. I end up exhausted, enraged and, often as not, still get stung.

On occasions, I have even been known to spill my Margarita. And, while even the recording career of Lionel Richie is forgivable in certain quarters, depriving me of my liquid sustenance most certainly is not.

And, just like the credibility of Bill Cosby, my patience is at an end. I am going all Emperor Palpatine on your buzzy little backsides, pal.

This means war and, just to be clear, I am laying down the nuts and bolts of just how I propose to defeat your evil little schemes, once and for all time.

In future, I shall be wearing special headphones in combat zones where your lot are present. These will emit a constant array of One Direction tunes.

A special programme built into these headphones means that I will be spared their inane witterings- a sound only slightly less annoying than yours.

But you will not be so lucky. These songs will play on a frequency guaranteed to send your bony little hides into a tail spin. You will hit the sea like an entire squadron of downed Mitsubishi Zeros, and in very short order.

And-if you think that is all I have in my armoury, think again. Because boys, I am also calling in the Death Star of all mosquito repellents….

Recent trials have revealed that a picture of Mrs. Camilla Parker Bowles can drop a swarm of mosquitos at thirty paces. Apparently, it’s all in the stare.

Ever since she married the Prince of Wales and became his awful wedded wife, thousands of pictures have been taken of the woman. No, I don’t know why, either. It’s nowhere near Halloween yet.

But the fact is that one of these photos has fallen into my possession.

I have now had it framed and, believe me, I will put it on a table beside me, facing outwards, everywhere I go. This is your last warning.

I assure you; the woman can make bread go mouldy just by staring at it. What she could do to you lot…..

So, if you still fancy your chances, bring it on.





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