Have come to an important conclusion today, I think. Had an incident in my kitchen last night that involved me filling the kettle up in the dark. Without thinking, I took the kettle to the sink and my foot sank into something cold, wet and mushy.
Well obviously my first thought, being a normal, well-adjusted male, was to touch the offending object and then sniff my fingers to verify its origin.
I must say that I’m glad I didn’t, as the offending item turned out to be a fucking slug! In my fucking kitchen! Under my fucking foot! Yuk!
On closer inspection, I became of the opinion that I’d just stepped in some sort of living poo; as if I had crapped the foul thing from me the day previous and it had decided that it’s purpose in life was to chase me and generally tickle my feet with its amiable texture.
Is this where slugs truly come from? Are they the embodiment of our past dinners? Do I need to get a more powerful flush on my bog?