43. Squirrel Ripper

“It were squirrels, Lucifer.”
“Squirrels, Weasel?”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me. What about squirrels?”
“I were telling you the other day! Something were in my loft, scurrying about! I said I thought it were rats, but it weren’t. It were fucking squirrels!”
“Oh. That’s bad. They can do a lot of damage, I heard. Chewing stuff and that.”
“Too right. I had a roofer round to fix some tiles, and he found where they were coming in. They’d climb the tree at the side of the house, jump onto the gutter, then the little bastards would scuttle under the eves.”
“What did you do?”
“The roofer blocked up the hole where they get in, and then he goes into the loft. He starts bashing the felt under the roof, listening for the squeaks.”
“Sounds a bit harsh!”
“He found this great big bulge in the felt, so he cuts it open, and guess what was inside?”
“Well, going on what you’re telling me, was it a squirrel?”
“Worse than that, Lucifer! It were only a fucking squirrel nest!”
“A drey.”
A squirrels nest. It’s called a drey.”
“I don’t fucking care what it’s called! That squirrel nest were in my house, and it had no fucking business there!”
“Fair enough. What happened?”
“Well this roofer lifts this nest out, right careful like. You could hear the squirrels running around on the roof, making a right racket, squeaking they’re little fucking heads off.”
“Can’t say I blame them.”
“This roofer opens up this nest, and shows me what was inside. Three little baby squirrels, all curled up asleep. They had their little tales wrapped around themselves, warm as you like. Fluufy little ears. Really cute.”
“That’s a predicament, Weasel. What did you do with it? Did you put it back?”
“No, it were alright. This roofer had dealt with problems like that before. He knew just what to do.”
“that’s a relief. I woulsn’t have a clue how to look after squirrels.”
“Yeah, it were alright. He had a screwdriver with him.”
“What! No!”
“Yeah, he sorted them out.”
“Baby squirrels? Screwdrivers? This has gone a bit wrong for me…”
“He stabbed them in their necks. It were over quick.”
“Necks? For fuck’s sake! Who stabs a baby squirrel in the bloody neck? That’s horrible! Who’s your roofer? Peter Sutcliffe?”
“No. I didn’t know Peter Sutcliffe did roofs. Thought he drove vans.”
“He was also handy with a screwdriver, if you remember.”
“Yeah, suppose he was. Anyway, that squirrel problems sorted. The adult squirrels wouldn’t fuck off for ages though. Stayed on my roof for hours, squeaking and squeaking. Stupid fuckers.”
“This is too much for me Weasel. See you later.”
“Yeah, see you later Lucifer. You look a bit peaky.”
“Yeah, funny that…”

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