Columnist Alun Newman: When insects attack

I understand that he’s not everyone’s cup of tea but then neither am I, and neither are you.

We can all cope with that, I’m sure.

Chris once described himself to me as an agitator for change, and I’ve pinched that phrase many times since.

He’s taught me to slow down my assumptions and to have a whopping compassion for the animals we share this planet with. Sadly, that’s where the similarities end.

He’s brilliant with animals and insects. I am not.

It has taken me years to reach the point where I can remove a massive spider from the house without believing it might lift the glass or chew through the cardboard.

I still make a strange shuddering noise if I meet one of the big boys in the garage but I’m improving.

Aside from spiders some creatures have had much better PR teams - they generate far less fear.

Whoever’s been running campaigns for puffins, dolphins, barn owls and squirrels have done an amazing job.

Although, there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed. I was in a lovely big park recently, and at the foot of an old oak two squirrels were playing a picture-postcard, Disney-style scene so I stopped to enjoy the moment.

Then, more squirrels joined in. After less than a minute there were about nine of them. The moment had gone from cute and Snow White to a possible gang hit.

I decided their numbers suggested an attack and withdrew to safety.

That’s the thing, some animals are acceptable but only in small numbers.

Bees, wasps, cows, woodlice, spiders… one at a time, that's fine. En masse, the mood changes.

And this week, I’d like to add a new name to the list of 'When Animals Attack': Ladybirds.

I was at the sink washing up, the back door open, sunshine pouring in, a gentle breeze drifting through. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs were practically singing as they tidied the house.

Life was good. Then one ladybird landed on the windowsill. A pretty little thing. Then two more. How cute, I thought, aren't the two supposed to be lucky?

There was nothing lucky about the next five minutes. Every ladybird on the south coast seemed to have landed in my kitchen. We went from Disney to Stephen King in seconds.

I did what only an alpha male can do - I screamed.

I fought my way to the back door which, incidentally, often acts as a wind tunnel for the entire street.

Hundreds of ladybirds clung to my arms, trying to take control of me. I’m fairly sure they were planning to walk me to my laptop and take over my finances. They were everywhere.

I have never seen so many of them together before in my life. Where had they come from? Why had they all chosen to fly now? What did they want?

Eventually, I fought them off and regained control. There were minimal casualties, although some, even as I write, are being spotted.

They’re pretty, harmless, and vital for the wider ecosystem which, incidentally, if you’re a ladybird reading this, the wider eco-system is not my kitchen.