The Interloper

When Denise and Andy announced their chicken keeping intentions, people said either one of two things. 'They'll get massacred by foxes' was one 'you'll get up one morning and find them lying dead in the garden with their heads ripped off.' 'You'll get a plague of rats' was the other, 'if Britain descends into another plague ridden hell, we'll be knocking on your door with the bill for the antibiotics, make no mistake.' Denise and Andy know a lot of doom mongers.

However, whilst gazing dreamily from the kitchen window yesterday morning, Denise thinks she sees a squirrel by the compost bin, nibbling its nuts. 'Aahh, look at the cute squirrel nibbling its nuts,' she says. 'I love squirrels. They are soooooo cute!' But then the icy hand of doom grips her heart and gives it a squeeze. 'That might not be a squirrel,' the icy hand of doom says (okay, hands don't generally talk; Thing in the Adams Family is my case in point - very much a mime artist, but bear with me) 'it might be a RAT!'

Denise tries hard not to run around the kitchen shrieking 'Vermin! Vermin!' at the top of her voice. Instead, she rushes outside armed with a bottle of Morning Fresh and a rubber glove (they were the first things to come to hand) shrieking 'Vermin! Vermin!'. 'What's up with her?' askes Mrs Bennett, pausing in her vicious savaging of a slug. 'I think she may have just seen Bernard,' says Mrs Miggins. 'Aah,' says Mrs Bennett. 'And please don't talk with your beak full,' reprimands Mrs Miggins.

As Denise runs screaming towards the compost bin, the so-called 'squirrel' turns and legs it up the garden, revealing in its wake not a cute fluffy tail that looks like a question mark but a thick, furless monstrosity that looks like a worm on steroids wearing a condom.

Reporting the sighting to Andy that evening, Denise clings to the hope that the interloper might be a squirrel with a very thin tail that is suffering from alopecia. But Andy, being a vet and thus VERY WISE about these things, diagnoses species Rattus Rattus (that's one rat, not two).

The evening is spent trawling the DIY stores for a rat trap. Denise and Andy really know how to enjoy themselves.

'It's only Bernard,' sighs Mrs Bennett, as she and Mrs Miggins settle for an evening in front of the telly. 'I know,' agrees Mrs Miggins, taking up the antimacassar she is crocheting, 'but you do have to admit, he isn't a great house guest. Such a temper when he loses at Scrabble.'Quite,' says Mrs Bennett.