It may have escaped your attention, but bees have taken a bit of a kicking recently. Not a literal kicking, of course. For those wearing summer sandals that could be disastrous. Nope, the bee – humble worker of honey that it is – is dying out.
Numbers have plummeted over the last three years. It’s got to the point of desperation. We’re now a nation that has its own National Bee Unit: an organisation dedicated to saving the bee.
For people who have been stung by bees, you may wonder what the bother is about. They’re vicious, mardy little blighters that gargle your drinks and make your dog’s face swell up when they chew them. On the other hand, honey lovers would counter, the bee gives us flowers, fruit and Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes.
Apparently a virus that’s brought over by foreign bees is decimating the bees. We need to bolster the British population in a big way, and a solution seems obvious: why not combine the needs of the bee with the realities of everyday climate changing activities? Bear with me on this.
Picture the scene. A man filling up his car with petrol at the pump. A special chip in the engine tells the petrol station computer that he’s been driving at maximum revs all day, drives everywhere on his own and never turns the engine off. At this signal, the bees attack. Straight out of the pump, into the engine, out of the air-conditioning units. It’s carnage in there, like a cross between David Attenborough and Martin Scorsese.
Or there’s scenario two. A woman is relaxing at home. She’s got all the tellies on, one in every room. The heating is on max and the windows are open. She’s even got the oven door open and the element on full. Her kettle is ever full. The gas meter and electric meter are building up heads of steam they’re so busy. But what’s that third meter, just there on the wall?
It’s the bee meter. The minute that woman switches the kettle on, our black and yellow avengers are go. Through the bee piping, into the TV, out of the light fittings, crawling through the floorboards and into her slippers. It’s like ruddy Zulu with Michael Caine.
This could only be the start. A whole network of secret bee police ready to prevent any further damage to the environment. They don’t have emotions. They’re good at taking orders. And they make cornflakes taste better too. You can’t say that about a bloke from the council, can you?
Ed Chipperfield
