Kidnapped!

Another sleepless night for Wilson, still overwrought about his missing toy Antony. 

Over coffee this morning he told me that he had been thinking about it all night and decided that the ants had kidnapped Antony in revenge for his cancelling the Britain's Got Ants auditions. Now he won't move away from the telephone in case he receives a ransom call. 

I don't know about this - do ants use the telephone? I'd have thought a very tiny ransom note slipped under the door would be more likely.

MISSING!

Wilson could not sleep last night for worrying about Antony. He's out now tacking 'Missing' posters on all the trees in the neighbourhood. 

I've told W that I'm certain Antony is okay, and that he will come home eventually, but honestly that's not much consolation when your favourite toy and cuddle companion is lost.

W suspects that what he calls 'Dark Forces' may be responsible...

Calamity!

Wilson has lost his stuffed toy anteater Antony! He is distraught and has looked everywhere. I've been looking too and I have to admit, I don't know what could have happened to him.

If you have any ideas, please get in touch!

Big Brother 2012

Big Brother started last night, and together we watched a sorry procession of no-hope nonentities attempt to outdo each other in shallowness before trooping into the cauldron that is the BB House. 

Wilson watched with growing dismay before eventually covering his eyes with his paw and asking, 'Is there a Critical Mass for egos? There is clearly an excess of self-esteem in there, and in that confined space I fear there may be a exponential reaction.'

I found it difficult to disagree with him.

'Also,' he continued, 'Mr Brian Dowling is starting to look a bit puffy in the face. I shall send him a jar of my ant face-pack. I'm certain he will find it beneficial.'

Judgement Day!

Oh, that should read Judging day!

Wilson set out his tiny stage early yesterday and prepared his winners enclosure (a tiny OXO tin to be sent to Simon Cowell) and runners-up enclosure (a gigantic biscuit tin for the ants he'd eat later) and prepared to judge the acts.

The ants turned up in huge numbers, and the first act was a weightlifter.

His performance went on for ages (much flexing of muscles, very little actual lifting). 

When it finally finished Wilson shouted 'Next!' 

But nothing happened. Looking around he saw that all the hordes of ants had broken into the jar of flavoured sugar, the Grand Prize, and eaten it all!

'That is so typical of ants' W grumbled. 'Untrustworthy… cheating… stealing… That so-called weightlifter was just a decoy! And he was rubbish!'

'Perhaps they'd heard you were going to eat the runners-up?' I mused, but he remained very, very cross.

Jubilee Day!

Wilson and I spent the entire day in front of the tv watching the Jubilee Celebrations in London and eating red, white and blue ant-based snacks. W popped outside briefly to have his photo taken amidst the bunting he'd put up at the front of the house, then back in to the tv and the warmth of the living room.  

W's only disappointment was that it was too cold and wet for the Street Party he'd planned to hold on the front garden.

I have to admit, we got through quite a lot of Ant Wine, and W fell asleep during the more boring bits of the river pageant, but overall it was a great day.