I never wanted any part of it, I hate wasps. Yet, if pushed I would definitely put myself in the t-rex tactics (Keep absolutely still – – it’s vision’s based on movement!) camp of sting prevention, as opposed to the bloodthirsty berserker red mist approach.I hate wasps in enclosed spaces, it follows that I hate wasps in crowded metro train carriages.  I was blissfully unaware of the black and yellow horror terrorising my fellow commuters as I was absorbed in my book. Blissfully unaware until the man sitting next to me took it upon himself to start batting said insect with his rolled up newspaper, he only succeeded in wafting the aforementioned airborne bastard into the face of a fellow female passenger who squealed in fright and implored him to stop as the beast was clearly getting a little riled.

All this occurred just as I was stowing my book in my bag and preparing to disembark. I rose from my seat just in time to see the wasp buzzing frantically between two apoplectic female passengers. The man, desperately trying to claw back a shred of masculinity took one final swipe, succeeding in hooking the murmuring menace onto the floor. Time seemed to slow, the wasp hit the floor, bounced, flipped through the air and slid to a halt against my right foot. I looked up into the glare of 4 sets of imploring eyes, glanced back down at the wasp, struggling to right itself against the sticky beige floor of the carriage.

“Quick…….” urged a voice, and without a second thought I shifted myself half an inch to the right bringing the edge of my shoe down on the beast’s writhing body. I sensed an unspoken whoop of delight and relief from my fellow passengers, as if we’d stuck one to nature, yet I felt hollow and complicit in a grimy little crime. As I said I never wanted any part of it.