I'm just back from a long weekend in Shropshire, which in many ways seems to have been defined by insects.
First of all, as I arrived at Shrewsbury station, a wasp flew up my trouser leg and stung me several times (from the knee down, I hasten to add)
I managed to somehow wiggle the trousers around and get him to drop out of the bottom of my jeans, and luckily I don't react too badly to wasp stings.
Later that night, we paid a visit to the Miners Arms (which used to be called The Drill) in Morda. As we arrived, there was a veritable plague of flies in there, and the landlord decided to wage war. He placed an insectocutor device on the bar and switched off all the lights, leaving only the jukebox to play on. Gradually, the little critters were drawn towards it and the place cheered each time one of their bodies crackled into the electric bars. All of this to a background of Johnny Cash. Most surreal, as I hope is put across a little by the video below.