Dragons' Den

A relative of one of Wilson's friends recently appeared on Dragons' Den, and received £100,000 funding for a 30% interest in his company. As soon as he heard about this W started making plans to apply to Dragons' Den himself — he'd even got as far as downloading an application form from the BBC. He told me he'd offer the Dragons a 100% share in Oddsies! for £1M, as long as he could have the money before his next birthday.

Before this got completely out of control, I suggested to W that he download a couple of episodes of Dragons' Den on the iPlayer to see what actually happens on the programme, as I feared that getting money out of investors probably wasn't as easy as it sounds. 

Once he'd seen grown businessmen and women insulted and reduced to tears by the Dragons, he said that he was reluctantly withdrawing his application. 

I think that is probably for the best.

Psychedelic Light Show

Much against my better judgement, Wilson persuaded me to join him in reconnoitring the club premises. He climbed in through the broken window then unlocked the rear doors to let me into the dark and deserted warehouse.

When he turned on the lights there was an alarming fizzing and crackling noise from the main switch panel, followed by a smell of burning. Eventually, though, the lights came on, flashing and flickering worryingly. 

I asked W if he was sure the lights were safe. He looked up at them for a moment before declaring,  'Don't worry — that's the light show. I'll hand out candles to the patrons, just in case. And I'll see if I can borrow a fire extinguisher.'

Wilson discovers the hard way that you can't unlearn something!

Following his meeting with the woodlouse family yesterday, Wilson has visited the website they recommended and learned a lot of interesting stuff about woodlice. 

He also came across some very disturbing information about their drinking habits, which is apparently SO rude that he refuses to tell me what it is. 

He has vowed never to share a cup with a woodlouse ever again, and strongly advised me to do the same.

Wilson has refreshments with his tenants...

First thing today Wilson popped round to the Bee Hotel to check on the woodlouse family. Their self-effacing calmness and humility is very appealing to W. However, these same qualities are annoying the earwigs and their (illegally sub-let) lodgers, who all want Wilson, as their landlord, to 'do something about them stand-offish  party-poopers downstairs.' 

W again tried, unsuccessfully, to get some rent from the earwigs, but they said they 'aren't paying nuffin until them hoity-toity woodlice is history.'

He then made a proposition to the woodlice, offering to evict the earwigs if they, the woodlice, would pay him rent. The father woodlouse said they would willingly pay except they didn't have any money — although he kindly offered W glass of water and a snack of rotten wood, which is apparently a great woodlouse delicacy. 

In an interesting conversation, the father woodlouse explained to Wilson that they are not in fact insects but arthropods, like crabs, and directed him to a very interesting website on woodlice: http://www.earthlife.net/insects/woodcare.html

In the end, however, everyone has stayed put, and no-one has paid any rent.

Who'd have thought that woodlice had access to the internet, eh?

We're doomed. Doomed...

I probed Wilson about these so-called bands of his, "Rocksy Music" and "The Stones," and he confirmed that both bands would be comprised, just as I feared, of the sTone Brothers with a few soft-toys in support. 

'But there will be a costume change, so nobody will notice that they're the same people in both bands, probably!' he added, as though that would make everything alright.

Then I pressed him about the premises and how much hiring the empty warehouse would cost. He winked and tapped the side of his nose with one claw before whispering, 'There's a broken window round the back!'

We are doomed. Doomed.

The Stones

'The Rolling Stones are appearing at your nightclub?' I asked, stunned. 

'No, no, no! Well, yes. Um, well, no. Not exactly. Not The Rolling Stones, more just "The Stones" — I've been writing some more songs: "Little Red Ant", "Hey, You, Get Off of My Ant", "I'm a King Ant",'

He paused to gauge my reaction before continuing. 

'"As Ants Go By", "Street Fighting Ant", "Walking the Ant", "Under My Ant." Because I've written all the songs myself The Rolling Stones won't get a penny and the Performing Rights Society can't touch us — we'll get to keep ALL the money! Sweet, no?'

Rolling Stones to make guest appearance!

Wilson elaborated on his plan to open a pop-up nightclub:

'The nightclub will be called Au Courant. That's such a cool name — it's French, and it means "with currants"' he explained confidently, 'so I'll give every clubber a bag of raisins as they go in! 

'Also, there will be a guest appearance by The Stones!' 

I was shocked. My jaw dropped. My little Wilson had persuaded The Rolling Stones, the biggest rock band in the world, to appear in his pop-up nightclub? This was incredible news — this would make the national media! I was impressed!