Advance warning: this post contains trauma but no pornography...

This morning I'd just emerged from the shower, clean-livin' chap that I am, got nice and dry as you do, went to my knicker drawer to grab a pair of boxers, slipped 'em on...

Now the trauma. Lurking inside the boxers, Gawd knows how it got there, was a queen wasp. Presumably trying to find somewhere cosy to hibernate. Well it clearly wasn't happy to make intimate acquaintance with my, er, "chappies' department", so it stung me. Good and proper. Three times, approx. half an inch from the top of my inside leg. I suppose I should be grateful that it didn't choose an even more delicate bit to sting, but it was painful enough, I tell you.

The poor beast fell on the bedroom floor. I rescued it and released it into the wild. 'Twas not her fault that she was obliged to defend herself. Apparently, wasps can sting multiple times without harming themselves, but they are not inclined to sting people unless they feel mortally threatened. I'm rather fond of them. The pain lasted about three hours then I was fine. Mrs Steve found the whole thing extremely amusing, given the site of the stinging. Doubtless (knowing her) she'll dine out on this big time, exaggerating the site of the stinging to good effect...