Where’s all the honey gone? Part 1

There isn’t much that’s good to say about George, except that he’s a bee keeper. He likes bees more than anything and it’s not just the honey that attracts him. George feels as though he understands their temperament. They are a lot like him, they demand respect. He just has to look at them to see that they will sort out anything that tries to mess with them. George likes their yellow and black bodies and the noisy buzz they make flying around. They don’t have to hide from the world. They say loud and clear:
’Here I am, leave me alone to get on with my business and if you don’t well fuck you.’

They are just like George… getting on with life.
George reckons that the best thing about bees is their sting. They give out a clear message, mess with us and you’ll be sorry and they don’t care if you didn’t mean it… that’s not their problem.

‘Not their problem. I'll give them not their problem,' Georgie mutters to himself as he strides over to his neighbour’s house.

"Katie, you there?" he shouts through her open window.

"What is it this time, Georgie?" she says as she opens the front door. Katie is one of the few people who can handle George when he’s in one of his moods.

"Georgie, you look as if you've had your nose bitten off. What's wrong?” … she says but does not wait for an answer. “Tell you what, come in and have a cup of tea but take your muddy boots off first" she says.

"Bleedin honey's still not there," he says as he ladles three big spoonfuls into the cup. "It should be there by now. Something’s wrong, there's not a single drop of honey. There should be a bit but there isn't even a drop."

"That's a strange thing Georgie, here have some cake."

"And it's not just me," he says, spreading a fine spray of crumbs over the table. "I've been checking up on the bee club web site, there's hundreds of keepers complaining. Seems like it's happening everywhere."

"That's very strange Georgie; would you like some more tea?"

"It must be something to do with the government. Every time something goes wrong they're behind it. Look at the fiasco's with the milk, the butter, the beef. The bastards cock everything up. Couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery. My God, I could give them a piece of my mind I'm telling you."

"Come on Georgie, calm down, you know it only upsets your stomach."

"Upsets my stomach, I'll kill the bastards before I'm through. Where in God’s name is my honey? If I catch anyone creeping around at night stealing my honey they're going to get my shotgun up their arse."

"Really Georgie… now be a good boy and drink your tea?" she says and gives him one of her special smiles.

"Oh, all right Katie if you say so."

The next day George was around at Katie’s cottage again.

“Have you seen the papers?”

“Not yet Georgie, I’m just having some coffee and toast. Would you like some?”

“Forget the damn toast, this is serious… yes, I’ll have some coffee.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, please.”

“That’s better you shouldn’t get so worked up, you know what the doctor said.”

“Stupid, bloody, quack idiot. Doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. If he comes near me again, I’ll give him a piece of my mind. Telling me to slow down, who the hell does he think he is, just out of medical school, I’ll bet.”

“Are you sure you don’t want toast?”

“Oh, all right, yes PLEASE. But let me tell you what’s in the paper. It’s spread all over the country.”

“What has Georgie… there, now don’t get jam on your sleeve like you did last time, you make such a mess.”

“The goddam honey famine has spread all over the country. There’s no honey from Lands end to John O’Groats. And that’s not all.”

“Do you want hot milk in that coffee or will cold do?”

“What?”

“Do you want hot milk?”

“I don’t bloody well care. I’m trying to tell you something important here.”

“I know you are Georgie, but you have to look after yourself. It’s important to get a good breakfast.”

“There's no sweet, honey coloured, nectar of the bees anywhere in the British Isles… except… and this is where it’s mad; except in the wild. Wild bee hives have honey, but all the commercial bee hives are not producing. How can that be?”

“Oh that’s a clever one Georgie, you made a pun ‘how can that bee.’

“Listen this is serious, those little black and yellow piss takers have gone on strike, they’re not producing. And it’s not the Varroa virus. I could swear that they have developed a belligerent attitude; they’re not behaving in their normal way. I used to like them but not now. I’ll kill the little bastards if they don’t buck their ideas up, I’m not kidding you.”

“You do know that you’ve got odd socks on again don’t you, it makes you look very funny Georgie."

“Just leave my socks out of this and listen to me will you.”

“I am listening Georgie and I read the papers and it’s not just about missing honey. It seems as though the animals that produce for us have all gone on strike. Cows are not producing milk, hens have stopped laying eggs and you’ll never believe this.”

“What?”

“The wool on sheep has stopped growing.”

“Is that true? OK, that’s it we will just have to kill the lot of them and start again.”

“Don’t be silly Georgie.”

The next day George is stomping around his kitchen when there is a knock at the door. George looks at the door as if it has committed a crime. He marches loudly over and opens it with a mighty swing.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he says to a man with a receding hair line and horn rimmed glasses standing opposite him.

“I’m Gregory Sawdirst, from the Government task force looking into the strange behaviour of animals.” He says.

“Oh you are, are you” George says, his eye narrowing and his nostrils flaring.

“We understand that you were one of the first people in the country to report the strange behaviour of bees. Can I come in and ask you a few questions please.”

Gregory doesn’t notice that the left temple on George’s head has started to pulse.

“Now when was it exactly that you noticed your bees were no longer producing honey?”

He is unaware that George’s face has turned a deep shade of scarlet.

“Perhaps we could start with you describing the set up you have here. For instance how many hives do you keep and how long have you had them for?”

Gregory looks at George and he sees that his hands are shaking.

“From the Government are you?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Now can we just make a start with this questionnaire? It won’t take long to fill in.”

“The Government that’s responsible for all the catastrophes we have had to suffer in the country side.”

“I think that’s a bit strong. Now if you would just answer a few questions I won’t keep you long.”

“See that questionnaire in your hand, you can just take it and shove it up your arse and I’ll help you to do it.”

“I say steady on there, now don’t you come near me. I must warn you that I have been to self protection classes and I can disable a man in thirty seconds.”

“Is that your self-protection stance you weasel mouthed, lily livered sad excuse for a human being. I’ll show you what I do to self protection stances.”

George smiled, a rare occurrence for him, in fact he only ever smiled when he lifted his 12-bore shot gun from it’s place in the corner by the fire place. He liked the feel of his gun. It was unambiguous; you couldn’t mistake it for a broom or a walking stick.

Gregory saw what it was straight away. It had a strange effect on him and he started speaking in a fast high pitched voice. George couldn’t make it out properly… it was just more gibberish.

Katie was sipping another cup of tea and nibbling on a poppy seed cake just made that day. She was worried about George. Bees were the only thing he cared about in life. She didn’t know how he would cope if the bees didn’t start producing honey again. He seemed to be getting more and more bad tempered and unreasonable. Katie felt sorry for George. He couldn’t be very happy going through life like that. Up until the bees stopped making honey she thought that she was getting somewhere with him but now he was so preoccupied that her influence over him was diminishing. Never mind, the cake was delicious. She was in the act of taking a large bite out of the cake when she heard the shot gun go off. She knew immediately that it was George’s gun; but what was he doing letting it off at this time of day and it wasn’t even the shooting season.