Gordon the Roach!

I've named it Gordon, after our dear PM. The dirty great cockroach I encountered several days ago, boldly creeping over my head whilst I lay in slumber. If you recall, I recounted that Gordon had retreated underneath the bed, a very large king-size affair. I wondered if Gordie was still there.

The other night I had a glass of lemon Fanta at the bed-side, and the can was beside it with a small piece of tin-foil on top to try to retain the fizz.

During the night I was stirred by a metallic sound. I switched on the light, peered into the can and guess who had crawled inside? That filthy cockroach, Gordon; and he was trying to climb out!

I placed the can in the bin and, although I did hear the odd noise during the night, I figured that Gordon would find it hard to escape.

In the morning I had a look and, to my surprise, there was no sign of him. The dirty beggar must have crawled under the bed again. Perhaps I ought to have put Gordon out of his misery when I first encountered him...