Bert went on a bee-keeping course recently and then sat a bee-keeping examination. He bought a bee-keepers outfit and built a hive and tonight he brought home his first bees. There are thousands of them and they have to be kept in a travelling box for a few days before being introduced to the hive. The travelling box has to be placed on the exact spot where the hive will sit. Bert was very excited about it all. He shouted to me to come and see. "Listen," says he. "Can you hear them?" I could. They sounded pretty pissed off to me. "Aren't you going to wear your protective gear?" I asked him. "Nah. It'll be OK." He opened them up. They poured out, a buzzing, raging mass. Straightaway Bert was stung on the finger, ankle and throat. Yet God was good for I was unscathed.
I said some things to Bert that are better not repeated in full. Words and phrases like 'bloody idiot', 'emergency tracheotomy' and 'dickhead' might have been uttered.
He went out again to see to them and this time he wore all the gear. When he came in he unzipped himself out of it and the next thing there's an angry bee buzzing around the kitchen. I beat a hasty retreat and ordered him to get it out of the house.
I think I'd far rather have the pigs.