There’s a news story on the sidebars of the BBC website which states that a man covered in bees has set a new World Record. If you click into the story, it goes on to say that the man was covered in 109kg of bees (which, frankly, is a ridiculous amount of bees) when he set the record.
It doesn’t say what the record is.
I assume it’s for being covered in more bees than is considered normal. But it might not be. He might have set a record for the most jumpers worn at once and the bees were just an incidental part of it all. Like he turned up covered in bees and someone said, “Hey, are you doing a bee-based record?” and he was quite offended because he just hangs out with 109kgs of bees for fun and is fed up of people assuming he’s really into wearing bees like clothes.
The thing with being covered iin a fuckton of bees is.. well, how do you get there. How does it start? You go around with one bee on your, maybe on your head or something, and before long you’re thinking about a second bee. Like with tattoos. I’ve heard people say – having no tattoos myself for fear of the fact that if I lost weight it would look like someone had drawn on a balloon that had then deflated – that once you’d had one you’re hooked. And it must be the same with bees. You’re up to bees, then three. Before you know it you’re stealing to fund your black market honey habits trying to entice more bees.
Your partner is getting suspicious because you’re coming home a little bit sticky, and what’s that? Pollen? On your collar? What they hell is going on? And then it spirals out of control and she leaves you and you turn to the hard stuff. You know, hornets and wasps, trying to get your fix of yellow and black stripy bastards…
And then before you know it you’re being celebrated because you’re cover in 109kg of bees.
It’s amazing how quickly these things get out of hand.