Picture this. It was a Saturday morning. I was wearing the heavy overcoat of my hangover acquired from the cheap wine of a friday night. As I tentatively made a healing cup of char I saw something scuttle across my kitchen floor. Screaming, I threw myself onto the kitchen counter in the manner of some 1940s chick flick.
Egor the mouse was loose in the house.
He found refuge in the metal underbelly of the fridge. I lay in wait for nearly twenty minutes taunting him with my weapon of choice, a strip of highly polished bamboo flooring. When Egor tired of my pathetic torture he made his escape scurrying to the nearest cupboard.
Needless to say, I was now very cross. As I flung open the kitchen cupboard doors to illustrate my anger I spied the many many 'presents' Egor had left me. It was obvious that our prisoner had been escaping the theatre room every night after we had retired to bed.
So I stealthily opened each door locating the little bugger in the last cupboard. However, there is a reason why mice don't rule the world, they simply don't understand the principles of camoflage and staying hidden. He was crouched between the plates and the wall with his bum and tail fully visible practically chuckling to himself with his fantastic hiding place.
I looked at my bamboo plank and re-assessed. This wouldn't cut it. Obviously I needed a grabbing device. I quietly searched around the kitchen for such an implement when my eyes came across the barbeque tongs!
Perfect.
I crept up to the quivering mouse clad with pink rubber gloves (myself, not the mouse obviously) and with tongs held aloft. There I waited for my moment.
That's when Dave came home. Quickly I thrust the tongs at him, jumped around the living room waving pink rubber hands and bamboo around. Dave grabbed the mouse who was shrieking (the mouse and not Davo) and I held the door open for him as he marched outside and launced the mouse over the fence!
See, I caught him all by myself! Aren't I the bravest thing on the planet?
