After slowly closing the door and proceeding to rock backwards and forwards in the lounge, I got around to giving myself a pep talk. This consisted of:

Brain: They’re more scared of you than you are of them.

Me: Fuck you Brain, I’m outnumbered.

Brain: Get the bug spray.

Me: But… it’s in the kitchen (several minutes of me wondering if I could manage to never again go in the kitchen).

Brain: This side of your retirement would be nice. 

Me: Hairspray works like bug spray right?

Brain: Yeah, sure, why not.

5 minutes later…

The kitchen is a bug graveyard, but on the plus side it smells ‘glitzy’. Well, it did until some man knocked on the door with a bin bag full of fish for my dad. Now I have a kitchen covered in dead flying ants, with a bag of assorted dead fish dumped in the sink, all surrounded by a sticky haze of hairspray.