Raptus Regaliter

One of the big problems with being from England is that you're used to benign wildlife, so when we spent a fortnight in Rhodes, the local version came as a big shock, even though I'd read "My Family And Other Animals".

Some of the wildlife was cute, like the red-eyed Gecko who lived on the roof of the hall.

Most of it, however, wasn't.  Like the little black scorpions that lived in the cactii. There were dire warnings in the hotel brochure never to leave windows or doors open at night, and to always knock your shoes out before putting them on.

And, of course, the praying mantis.

A big, green praying mantis stationed itself outside our door one morning.   I first found out about it when Her Maj opened the door, screamed, threw it shut and leapt up onto the bed, screaming.

"What's the matter now?" I said.  "A praying mantis!" she announced to the neighbourhood in general. "Outside the door!  Kill it!  Kill it!"

Because this is what women do.  If it was just a man, he'd go "oh, a mantis", and walk round it.  Women can't do that.  They have to sound the alarm.  And then they demand that you, their man, beat the shit out of this poor innocent creature that's doing nothing other than minding it's own business.

Can you imagine the shit David Attenborough has to put up with?

So, I opened the door, and there it was.  A praying mantis.  A big, green praying mantis,  flexing its arms in a fairly threatening manner.

You ever seen one?  Close up?  I don't mean on television, I mean standing outside your hotel room door, flexing it's mandibles and demanding your spare cash.  These are the ones where the female eats the male after sex.  Last time I saw one that big,  it was beating the shit out of Will Smith.

"Kill it with a newspaper!" screams Her Maj.

"Are you kidding?  That thing's so big you couldn't kill it with a complete print-run of the New York Times - including the Sunday supplement.  And we've only got the Frankfurter Allgemeine.  The only thing that'll do is give it a mild headache - if I can get it to read it."

Then I had an idea - We'll phone reception!

Reception: Kalimara! Room Service!  What you want?
Me: There's a preying mantis in the hall!
Reception: You want Pray?  Go Church.
Me: NO!  Big insect!  Outside!
Reception: You want big insect?
Me: No!  Kill Big Insect!
Reception: you want Sekt?
Me: er….Send Will Smith! Or Doctor Who!
Reception: You want Doctor?
Me: Yes!  No!  Er….what the hell is greek for insect?  Insectio?

SO, I'm looking through the phrasebook trying to find the greek for "Help! There is a large insect outside our door! Come and kill it!"  Which, strangely enough, isn't in any of the tourist guides we bought.  Which is a stunning omission on their part. Come to think of it, we could have stunned the mantis with the phrasebook.

As you can imagine, we're in a bit of a panic because, well, Breakfast stops at nine, and its quarter to.

Then there's a knock at the door.

"It's trying to get in!" screams Her Maj. I open the door, and there's...the chambermaid. Where's Edgar Bug?  Answer: it has been expertly swatted by the chambermaid with the broom handle, which has crushed its head into the floor...and it's trying to get up!  This..thing.. has had its brains spread across the floor, and it's behaving as though it's a minor setback.

And you wonder why I've never visited Australia?