Friday, May 5

After a few glasses of wine, I become a murderer
I got a bit drunk last night. After I’d stumbled in, rolled around on the floor with the pets and put my pyjamas on, I made the odd decision to go into the garden and check on my plants.

I do this most nights, but I’m normally a) dressed and b) sober. On a normal night, I would spot the snails slowly schlurping their way towards the flower bed, on their journey to destroy the plants that I have lovingly nurtured since they were just tiny little seeds, killing them senselessly just to fill their slimy bellies.

When dressed and sober, I usually pick up the snails and throw them over the hedge onto the fields at the back of my house. I get rid of the snails, and they get a nice soft landing onto undergrowth that they can munch their way through until they’re too fat to fit their shells. Everyone’s happy.

However, with about a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc inside me, I wasn’t feeling so kind. When you get out there really late at night, there aren’t just one or two snails – there are squillions of the buggers sliding their way towards a midnight feast. And not just snails either. Slugs. Thousands of slugs. Thin ones, fat ones, brown ones, black ones, all intent on causing bedlam in the borders.

I got the torch out. It was bad. I was cross. It was war. I was inspired.

Salt. Slugs don’t like salt. I was straight in the kitchen, frantically filling up the grinder with the best Maldon sea salt.

Then I was ready to attack. I ran through the garden, the pyjama'd pest controller, grinding salt on every slimy thing I could spot. And it worked – the slimies stopped sliming. As each grain of salt made contact with their bodies, their slippery skin bubbled and fizzed like sherbert. Only the revenge was sweeter than any sugar-based confectionary. I could almost hear them squealing: "I'm melting, I'm melting".

This morning it was carnage. In the dawn sunlight, the path was covered in half-melted slugs, slime worthy of Saturday morning kids TV oozing out of thier insides. I felt bad. Really, really bad.

It’s only a matter of time until the dog ends up in the microwave and I’m whizzing up a post-pub snack of cat and Branston sandwiches.

And I’m a… gulp… vegetarian.


  1. I've done exactly the same thing too although not in my jammies and after a bottle of merlot. I felt evil the next day.

  2. You could have killed, literally, two birds with the one stone. You already had the snails salted up, just needed to toss them into the frying pan with some butter and garlic. You would've vented your frustration at life on the snails and also had a nice meal. :-)

  3. There is no such thing as slugicide. Kill them all! There seem to be more each year here.