Not all pretty are they? I spotted this critter scoffing my rhubarb on Saturday, but I can’t touch them bare-handed and by the time I’d fetched a ‘tool’ (a polythene bag over my hand) and summoned up the stomach for it it had gone. Yes, I wasn’t very quick. Anyway, today it’s back, doing its worst, so I took the opportunity to take some photos as evidence of the rhubarb-thief’s identity.
Question: how come if I fed The Bloke rhubarb leaves I’d potentially be in a lot of trouble, but the slug can feast on them with no ill effect? Curiouser and curiouser.
My quotation for today comes from a comical little poem by someone called John. I found it here: