There are ants in my cheerios.
They're everywhere else too - in the sink, on the table, daringly scaling the microwave. But the ones in my cheerios are easily the most galling.
To be honest, I only really bought them because I fancied one bowl. But I didn't want to sacrifice the other 330g to starving insects. That's almost the opposite of what I wanted to achieve.
In all seriousness, what do ants contribute to society? Nothing meaningful, surely. They don't fix the roads, or make jam, or write books. The 1998 movie Antz may not be Woody Allen's greatest work, but it's hardly regarded as his worst.
Sure, they don't do anything overtly evil, like nipping you or pooing in your slippers. They just climb all over stuff in a neverending quest to eat more cheerios and procreate.
A man from property services appeared at one stage and sprayed stuff on the carpet with a cheery cry of "don't let any guide dogs lick the floor for three hours!"
But the poison that would allegedly kill a labrador has only made these bastards stronger. I'm sure there are far more now than there were when the man came, and they're less deferential now too. Some sit there and look up defiantly, as though daring me to squish them.
"Come and have a go if you dare," they seem to say, "but if you kill us we will become stronger than you could possibly imagine."
Ants watch too many films.