#Goodbyee, wipe that fly from your eye, goodbyee#

Here's a thing: if you're walking along and a tiny fly suddenly hurtles directly into your eye—I refuse to take responsibility for this, by the way, how come he didn't see me coming?—don't just wipe your eye and assume he's panicked and flown away, off to tell his fly mates about his near-miss and having a few breathless pints down at the fly pub. It's entirely possible that he is still there.

I was just about to walk back into the office from the toilet just now when I noticed my reflection in the brass nameplate had a strange black dot in its eye. Investigation revealed this to be the carcass of the small fly I had encountered the day before, which had spent the ensuing 24 hours drowning beneath my eyeball.

This is by far the most digusting thing to happen to me this year, and I fervently hope it stays that way.