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A beetle in the bathroom! It suddenly appeared.
I was shaving when I saw it and I watched it as it veered
into a corner. It was black and pretty quick as beetles go
and I thought ‘I don’t want beetles in my bathroom, sorry, no’.

So I reached down for my slipper, intending to mete out
a sudden sort of justice that would quickly bring about
a beetle-free environment. I started my attack
but the beetle beat a quick retreat and beetled down a crack.

Frustrated, I continued my shaving as before
when it hadn’t crossed my mind there’d be a beetle on the floor.
But only moments later, as I turned to get my towel,
the beetle reappeared and resumed its beetle prowl.

‘Aha!’, I thought and watched it as it scurried at a pace
to the centre of the bathroom where there is no hiding place.
I took my slipper off again; the beetle stopped a bit
and I thought I heard a beetle voice go ‘Oops, I’m in the shit!’.

I’m not averse to Beatles. I swear that that’s the truth −
Ringo, Paul and John and George were idols of my youth −
but, a beetle in the bathroom is a beetle way off course.
I went ‘Take that!’ and squashed it flat with overwhelming force.