There's a fly in my living room, in fact recently there's been quite a few
Where on earth do they come from? Last week there were only two
Impervious to spray, they've been buzzing round for days
They help themselves to jam on the worktop, and lick the congealed fat off my oven trays
They feast on last week's chow mein remains in it's foil container
Then there's the spicy orange kebab juice on the kitchen drainer
And the crumpled weekend empties stacked at the side of the bin
In the sink they flit in and out of the budget brand baked bean tin
They graze on the empty humous tub next to the two dead spider plants
And the mysterious sticky stuff on the Sky remote that's attracted a colony of ants
They're getting on my nerves now, these flies ants and other crawly pests
I don't know what I've done to deserve this influx of unwanted multi legged guests
I'm going to lose it big style soon, they're messing with my head
I've tried catching the flies in empty crisp packets, there's a few at the side of the bed
I've thrown socks at them and tried swatting them with slices of furry bread, but it's not working, I need a radical plan to get rid of this six legged horde
Perhaps my domestic hygiene regime is marginally flawed
Maybe I should empty the bin and take the bulging leaking black sacks outside
Scrape the gunk off the carpet and consider insect genocide
Anyway, more importantly on another front, I'm fed up with being single, I think I need an urgent speed dating cupid love match
I really fail to understand why I'm still not spoken for, as a modern bloke I'm a totally domesticated homeloving hunk of a catch.
I need to entice a young lady into my web, like the spider and the fly, and invite her into my home
Thinking about it, perhaps a coat of paint and some lampshades wouldn't go amiss to help set the tone
Charm her with my small talk, followed by a game of Twister....and then who knows?
Excuse me a sec but I've just spotted some maggots wriggling in the salad crisper. If I want to be lucky in love I should probably get rid of those.
Neil Windsor is a Writer of children’s short stories, Artist and Poet from Leeds who produces and performs all his work with an absolute passion and a slightly slanted off – kilter view of life.
He also plays extremely bad left handed blues guitar.#neilwindsorart