I don't know about you, but even with my deep fascination of our global wildlife, there

are some animals, namely insects that really sent a shiver down my spine, especially the stinging kind.

I remember how it all started. A young Patrick was sat watching cartoons when the tail tail sound

of a wasp hummed through the window. Somewhat irritated I tried to shoot it back out of the window,

but the adults in the room at the time gave me a stern look as if to say,

stop making such a big fuss! Just ignore it and it won't sting you, someone piped up.

Those words still haunt me to this day. Well, ignore it I did. Lost once again in Saturday Morning

Kids TV. Then, out of the blue, like a tiny spark igniting gunpowder, my elbow jerked uncontrollably

into life. I'd been stunned by the wasp. I'd felt nothing like it before. It was like something

between a shock of electricity and an intense burn. My uncle reached for his tennis racket in the

corner of the room and swiftly dealt with the invader with Roger Federer-like precision.

But for little Patrick, the damage had already been done. My fear of wasps,

Spexophobia was born.

Since then, I've lost count of how many times I've tried to have lunch outside in the sun,

only to be greeted by a small, black and yellow flying menace, which most of the time

has me running for cover. I mean, picture the scene. There I am, lounging on a dead chair,

sunscreen on, a tasty sandwich in hand, and a glass of something sweet and bubbly with an

arm's reach, pure bliss. And before you know it, they start moving in.

First one, then another, and another. Next thing, I'm leaping out of my chair, waving my arms

around and replaying that moment from my childhood. Can't say I'm too proud of myself, but I know

some of you out there also get a little bit anxious when there's a wasp about.

Now, if you thought their sting was bad, well, I might as well tell you now get it over and

...