Do you remember Frogger?
Great game. I was addicted to it when I was 16.
But then I was addicted to everything when I was 16. Except any form of academic work.
My favourite was Space Invaders - the original, classic version. Asteroids was good too. And I fell briefly under the powerful spell of Missile Command. It had a trackball - need I say more?
I’ve got off the point already. Please don’t let me do that.
Frogs. That’s what this is about. Bloomin’ frogs.
Seems like there’s more of them this year. Especially in our kitchen.
The day after the above photo was taken, there occurred what shall henceforth be known as ‘The Unfortunate Incident’. Dennis (or it may have been one of his cousins) reappeared in our house, looking, let’s be honest, a little less perky. That tends to be the way when you are clamped in the jaws of a hungry felis catus (the one on the left).
Poor Dennis. I gave him as dignified a burial as I could.
Since The Unfortunate Incident, we have kept pretty close tabs on said felis catus, with reasonable success. He hasn’t brought any more frogs in as little presents.
Just spawn.
Great big mouthfuls of it, dumped on the kitchen floor. Semolina with twigs.
This can’t go on, we thought. We must nip it in the bud. Or buy some garlic and a French cook book.
We have a little pond in our garden. Quick-thinking and on the money as ever, The Flame-Haired Temptress deduced that this must be the source of the frogs and their spawn. Sure enough, when we went to investigate, we found a scene that wouldn’t have looked out of place in an episode of Dr. Who c.1975.
As well as some ill-looking reeds and leaky pond-liner, there was a mass of frog spawn, resembling nothing so much as a heaving soapy mass of flatulent bubble wrap.
What to do? We’re essentially animal lovers in the Runny household. I don’t know what the pro-frog-life lobby would think of us doing away with a bathful of spawn in a frogocaust of unprecedented proportions. I had visions of being bundled into a squad car while being spat on by protesters waving ‘Kermit Murderer!’ placards.
On the other hand if we do nothing...frogs in the kitchen, frogs in your bed, frogs in the bathroom, frogs on your head...
So we started plotting. Where’s the nearest pond? Have we got a bucket? Off we go then.
Only one snag - said pond is surrounded by head-high railings.
We might have to resort to a drive-by spawning. It’s either that or Exodus 7:25 - 8:11.