Summer's here kids, and with it comes the sound of a wasp being shredded by a Kenwood Chef, its eyeballs scraped out by a cocktail stick followed by its wings until it's a piece of fluff waiting to reside in your navel.

"Give me one chance? Please?"

But this can't happen, oh irritating black and yellow one. The game is up, big time.

"We have an order to maintain the empire"

I'm sorry but you've had your last chance. There could be one saving grace though. If you go and sting that boring Welsh git Kelly Jones in the middle of his tongue we will use our surgical enhancers to rebuild you.

"But he's new! Exciting!"

Bahhh!!! You've lost the plot old waspy. It's the dustbin for you. Now if you'd have said "Yes master, your wish is my command - after all, who needs some boring Welsh ponce when there are six people from Nottingham who make Idlewild's lyrics resemble a bad nursery rhyme and Sonic Youth sound like they spontaneously combusted fifteen years ago" your future would have been secure.