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This is a question My most treasured possession

What's your most treasured possession? What would you rescue from a fire (be it for sentimental or purely financial reasons)?

My Great-Uncle left me his visitors book which along with boring people like the Queen and Harold Wilson has Spike Milligan's signature in it. It's all loopy.

Either that or my Grandfather's swords.

(, Thu 8 May 2008, 12:38)
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Years and years ago when I was about 8 years old I was sleeping in bed one night – as I often did back then – with the window wide open to let the cooling summer breeze into my room. I imagine I was dreaming about Lego or the strange feelings I had just started getting in my manly bits.

Suddenly I let out a scream – I could feel a sharp pain on my chest – I looked down and switched on my bed sight light to see a small red, raised mark on my chest.

“aarrghghmememmmde” I shouted again “EEEEOOIIIPPPPPHH”
“MMMaaaaaaaaarrrggfff” Again another sharp pain

I jumped out of bed, put the main light on and glimpsed a very, very red and raised chest in the mirror. Then I saw it. A wasp was drunkenly hovering around my bed. I can’t say I have good vision, but, I swear to god I could see its shit eating grin and satanic eyes. The complete fucker had stung me a total of 7 times in the space of a minute and I now had a swollen and very painful chest

“Im going to get you” I called out – which in hindsight was probably not really too understandable to a wasp.

I ran to the bed and grabbed a pillow and thwacked the sleep-robbing fucker several times. Surprisingly it was not dead, but, was clearly injured. It kept buzzing round in circles on my sheet trying to straighten its bent wings so it could launch another attack.
Now I didn’t want to touch it, it might sting me again, so I looked around my room for something to kill it. I know I could have just smacked it with a book, but, this trigger happy fucker now had a taste for flesh – I wanted to hurt it.

I scanned my room. In the middle of my bedroom floor was a large tube of PVA glue. Earlier that day I had been pictures out of cut up coloured card. I grabbed my empty drinks glass of the bed side table, flicked the wasp in it with a scrap of card and filled the glass up with PVA glue – to the very top – and watched it take its terminal breath. Then I ran crying to mummy.

Now what I didn’t know about PVA is that if it’s left out in a glass over night it goes rock hard and its milky colour turns clear. When I got home from school the next day I noticed that the wasp was now part of a perfectly smooth and large cylinder of plastic. It was stuck in the very centre in some terrified pose. To an eight year old it looked fucking ace.

I named the wasp Bert

Every time I move house, every time I go on holiday, every time I go anywhere that I might have to sleep for a few days – so does Bert the Wasp. It’s a reminder to all of his waspish cousins what will happen if they fancy some KMWIP flesh. For nearly 20 years he was my suspended animation companion.

And I was not stung once

Last year I took it on holiday with me and those lovely people at American Airlines sent my suitcase to the opposite side of the earth to where they sent me. I did get my case back after a month. Out of all the items of clothing, electrical and other holiday type garb that had gone missing on its way back to me – I was most devastated to lose Bert.

I am sure that where ever he is he is happy though – as he sent another black and yellow cunt to sting me the very next week.
(, Fri 9 May 2008, 14:20, 4 replies)
Bzzzzz, bzzzzz, bzzzzz...
(, Fri 9 May 2008, 14:24, closed)
Nice story,
Well written!
(, Fri 9 May 2008, 14:24, closed)
worth a try
e-mail these people and see if they have Bert:


They'll return it if you can prove it's yours, and who else is going to be asking for a wasp trapped in plastic? Of course, if I'd gone in their store and seen something like that, I probably would have bought it.
(, Fri 9 May 2008, 14:30, closed)
A great story!

*Clicks with gusto.*
(, Fri 9 May 2008, 16:53, closed)

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