by 
The carefree early summer that involved laughter, barbecues, ice cream in the park, and leaving all the windows open, has been replaced by abject terror as the first wasp wakes up.
Pub garden regular, Simon Williams, had all but forgotten the hell of the British Summer.
“In the winter all I could remember of the Summer were the good times, but there was always this nagging feeling that there was something I had forgotten.
“It’s a bit like how Bruce Willis had forgotten he was dead in that film with the kid.”
Early wasp, Scot Gemmill was unapologetic about his presence.
“I don’t give a shit what you’ve been doing between October and May. I’m here now and things are going to get pretty fucked up, and pretty bloody quickly, let me tell you.”
Asked about his plans, Gemmill stated that he will probably head straight to a popular theme park and hang around the bins.
He went on, “You might want to think twice about where you’re going to put that Snickers wrapper. Try and put it in this bin and it’s go time!”
Gemmill does not just have plans to loiter in a waste receptacle next to the log flume.
“I might spend a bit of time climbing into cans of pop outside a pub. Am I bothered if you’ve finished them? Am I bollocks, mate. I dare you to take a sip. I dare you.”
At the moment Gemmill is one of the few of his community that are active, but he expects that to change as summer progresses.
“I think I’m pretty reasonable, but some of the lads that will be here by July are absolutely mental.
“I’d make yourselves pretty scarce as things are going to get very, very awful.
“You can forget about enjoying anything outside whatsoever.
“Isis have got nothing on us.”
