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!

Like Roxy Music, but cheaper

At last I've found out what's going on. Wilson sat me down today to summarise the problem and disclose his solution. 

'Look, New Dad,' he started, 'we've got a brilliant idea that's almost ready to make me, um well US obviously, a million: Oddsies! We've got the packaging and the publicity, but we can't afford to buy the stock. We need to raise money, and raise it fast!'

I nodded, encouragingly.

'So we're going to run a Benefit Concert! We're going to turn the old "Trading4U" warehouse into a pop-up nightclub. Pop-ups are very popular right now!'

'So who's going to perform in this nightclub that people will pay to see, but won't require any fees?' I asked, fearing that I already knew the answer.

'ROCKSY MUSIC!' he exclaimed, triumphantly. 'They are the new Art-Rock Sensation! And as it happens, I am their promoter, manager and songwriter.'

With a flourish he produced a flyer for the band, proclaiming, 'Ta-Dah! What do you think? You can help me fly-post them all over Uckfield! Brilliant or what?'

A musical prodigy at work...

Wilson is totally on a roll today, having written four more songs: 'Mother of Ant', 'Street Ant', 'Both Ants Burning' and 'Jealous Ant.' 

Right now he's in the conservatory trying to teach them to sTony and sToneye. 

Without, it must be said, a great deal of success. 

Celebrity Big Brother

No sock shopping again today, as Wilson didn't want to be too far from the telephone. I asked him about this and he said, 'I'm half expecting a call from Channel 5. Celebrity Big Brother starts this evening and they may need me if one of their lesser celebs pulls out at the last moment.'

He went on to explain that while he had no wish to appear on CBB he wanted to decline politely and in person. 'When you're a celebrity, such as myself, it doesn't do to burn your bridges with the Media, you know — you should remember that if you ever get famous, New Dad!'

While waiting for the phone to ring he found time to write some more songs. Today's crop includes 'More than Ants', 'In Every Dream Home an Ant' and 'Ants Are the Drug.'

I have to say that the tunes all sound strangely familiar. As do a lot of the words...

A new songwriting sensation!

Wilson has really been working the guitar today — he's writing his own material too! 

While he plays and makes up the lyrics, Antony, Tiny Toy and Polly B are suggesting rhymes and writing down the songs. 

So far he's written three new songs: 'Slave to Ants', 'Do the Ant' and 'Virginia Ant.'

Seems like he's channelling Bryan Ferry!

Antony meets Polly...

Wilson has taken a day off from sock-shopping so he can play with his new toy, Polly. 

Antony, it must be said, is a bit wary of Polly. He probably feels threatened by her presence, having been effectively an 'only child' for so long then suddenly being faced with a rival for Wilson's affection... but I'm sure it will all work out in the end.

I'm pleased to see that my guitar has been brought in from the Wilson Vermilingua OBE Museum of Old Stuff and a Robot — I'd like Wilson to have a proper hobby, to distract his mind from constant thoughts of financial acquisition…

Wilson strikes gold. Almost.

Today Wilson returned from his regular round of the charity shops with a bulging carrier bag and a big smile. 

'Did you get any socks?' I asked him.

'Well. I thought I'd struck gold,' he replied. 'There was this charity shop with a big "One Day Only" sock event — but they'd sold out by the time I got there. 

'However…' He opened the carrier bag and withdrew a big fluffy bee, 'I did get this! I shall call her Polly, and she will be all the things that the real Polly was not!'

I imagine he means cuddly, affectionate and uncomplaining.

Kickstarter

Wilson is now wondering whether to try funding his Oddsies! project at Kickstarter.com. 

I honestly can't see investors rushing to put money into a second-hand odd-sock business, but what do I know about the Rag Trade? Or, for that matter, about the Second Hand trade?

In other news, woodlice have moved into the bee house. The earwigs are not happy.

Bryan Ferry

Wilson has raided my underwear drawer and is ironing my socks to package and sell as Oddsies! He has graciously allowed me to retain one (odd) pair for wearing, which I shall have to wash and dry overnight.

Out of the blue, he asked me whether sTony reminds me of Rock SuperGod Bryan Ferry. I told him that they both have good teeth and a nice (if a little predatory) smile, but there the similarity ended. 

I think if W is contemplating getting sTony work as a Bryan Ferry look-alike he might be hampered by his lack of a body. Among other things.

Financial decline...

There is no shortage of Charity Shops in Uckfield, but Wilson said I would be surprised how few socks they have in stock — even odd ones! 

I didn't tell him this, but actually I'm not at all surprised — I wouldn't have expected second-hand socks to be a big seller at any price, even for charity.

On his return from the village (once again sock-less) Wilson mentioned that he'd noticed a lot of empty commercial premises — 'Yet another symptom' he said, 'of our financial decline.' 

Statements like this are uncharacteristic of W — I hope he's not considering a career in financial forecasting. Not with his track record of failed business enterprises...

Still missing one vital ingredient...

The Oddsies! packaging arrived this morning, so now we have crates of wrappers and boxes for Wilson to sell his Oddsies! socks in... and a load of advertising in place… but but no Oddsies! and no means of buying any. 

Also, we'll be spending the rest of this month eating mostly ants. 

After stacking all the boxes in the kitchen, Wilson made another foray into the village in search of socks from the local charity shops. 

Road Safety Campaign

Wilson found disappointingly few pre-owned socks at the charity shops yesterday — all he came home with was a bee fridge magnet ('To remind me of Polly' he told me, morosely) and a pack of cable ties. 

This morning I discovered that all the lamp posts near our house have had warning signs cable-tied to them. Naturally, I asked Wilson whether he know anything about it. 

'Oh yes!' he admitted, breezily, 'They're part of my Road Safety Campaign. I found it quite difficult crossing the main road in the village yesterday, so I thought some Anteater Awareness posters would be beneficial to everyone.'

Princess Tracey has left to found a dynasty

Wilson went round to the Folly this morning to change Tracey's flowers and see whether she survived last night's Meteor Shower, but he couldn't find her. Apparently she left a note with the mother earwig, explaining her absence. 

The note allegedly reads: 'Princess Tracey Bee the 1st has left to become a queen and found her own colony. It is her destiny. She wishes all her subjects well, especially Wilson Vermilingua OBE for his kindness and provision of flowers; but not the earwigs, who crassly invaded her majesty's palace and kept her up all night with their raucous and cacophonous music.' 

I should point out that I haven't seen the note myself, I'm just going on what Wilson has told me. I didn't even know that bees could write, let alone spell words like 'cacophonous'!

W gave the flowers he'd brought for Tracey to the mother earwig. She was very grateful, saying that they would feed her family for days.

The earwigs have now taken over the whole house and sub-let rooms to their friends and relatives.

There was no honey in the jar.

Perseid Meteor Show

Wilson has gone into the village to do the rounds of the Charity Shops. He hopes to buy up their entire stock of pre-owned socks to re-package and sell as Oddsies! 

I have warned him that he'll have to be very selective in what he buys, and also that he'll need to wash and iron the socks to make them look brand new, if he is to have any hope of selling them. 

The Perseid Meteor Shower is due to peak this evening, and Wilson has warned me that he'll be spending tonight in his Asteroid Shelter. I shall have to prepare my own meals, and he's asked me to feed Antony and Tiny Toy too, as there's no room for them in the Shelter. 

Or me, obviously.