An almighty punch up in our room this afternoon left us heavily traumatised and in need of a calming beer.
I was lying on the bed reading, when a Hornet buzzed past my ear. Of course, this being Australia, the thing was the size of a small bird with barbed wire wings and a syringe full of hydrochloric acid hanging from its arse.
We’ve seen some scary stuff in Queensland, but this critter took the biscuit.
But it got worse. The bloke in the next cabin reckoned he was an authority on the Aussie Hornet and told us it was probably looking to build a nest.
He reassured us by saying: “If you kill it, you’ll be fine, but it’s a hospital job if it stings you”.
Which turned out to be easier said than done.
Attempt to swat it like a fly and there was every chance I’d miss. Miss, and it’d be so angry it would surely kill everything within a five mile radius.
I needed a clean shot, but the thing flew behind our luggage and nestled down, seemingly for a nice kip.
What we needed, was a plan.
If Wend could lift the bag quickly enough she’d catch him dozing, I could then nip in and flatten it before it knew what was going on.
Easy.
So she lifts the bag, but before I can do anything, she lets out a scream and runs from the room.
Turns out, the Hornet wasn’t snoozing at all, he was halfway through a massive barney with a spider. And because it was an Australian spider, it was the size of rat, with horrible fangs a serious attitude.
It was a fight to the death and - to be honest - we didn’t want to get involved.
Eventually, the Hornet came out on top – paralysing his foe before settling down to nibble bits from the poor sod’s face.
Charming.
Fortunately, this meant his defences were down and he didn’t see me as I sneaked up with 432 pages of dog-eared Bill Bryson in hand to knock him senseless.
It only dawned on us later, that unless we’d gone Hornet hunting, we wouldn’t have found the spider. And believe me, you don’t want something that size snuggling up to your scrotum in the middle of the night.
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