Imagine for a moment what it must be like to be a cockroach…

Role reversal. There you are inside a huge cavernous temple, vast items of furniture bought at roach IKEA, looking like something designed by Geiger, the guy who designed the ‘Alien’ sets. A dark kitchen where tantalizing buckets of trash are boiled up, huge crusts falling to the floor to be picked up by any opportunist who happens along.

Naturally, you are hungry, as you have two children to feed (not ten thousand of the little tykes, but it is all relative), so you stick to the greasy cupboards, edging ever closer. Suddenly, a shadow falls across you, you squint upwards, only to be blinded by the glare of the spotlights (do you also have spotlights in your kitchen that make you want to make an acceptance speech every time you turn them on?) Six bristly legs tower above you, there is a faint shriek followed by the ‘SKOOOOSH’ of a gigantic aerosol. Immediately, your chest closes up. You feel the desperate urge to dash around in circles, except your foot is wet and stuck to the smooth linoleum. You start to lose your breath, and fall on your back, your two useless legs pedaling furiously in the air. Another shadow approaches. The last thing you see is a million bristles. The broom of deliverance. You perish, thinking of the orphans you leave cowering under the sink.

Or a mouse.

You cower daily in your hole behind the TV cabinet. You shake constantly with mild seizures, and the terrifying world beyond must be interpreted through your heightened sense of smell. Mom always said you had a cute button nose, but now that you live in the house belonging to the giant mouse family, your nose is your lifeline.

Wait! All is quiet. The passage light is on, in case anyone needs to wee during the night (we know how unpredictable a mouse bladder can be), but they have all retired to their nests. Your receptors tell you that there, just beyond the bin, is a feast waiting to be had. Taking your time, you advance tentatively. The carpet catches your tiny feet, but you skitter around the skirting boards. Paydirt. A huge plate, festooned with hamburger and fries, and a giant chocolate shake lie on the floor as if by design. You pause. Drool seeps over your lips. The unpredictable nature of meals means that this is an opportunity not to be overlooked.

Sniff. Seems fine. You reach out, grab a chip, and as you do you feel the tension in the plate shift. The whole feast shifts, as a massive spring is released, and a vast iron bar shoots down towards your neck.

Footnote: As you lie there, your feet twitching, you are still glad that they didn’t keep cats as pets.

May I close by quoting Dr Seuss?

“But then a strange thing happened:

Why, those pants began to cry!

those pants began to tremble:

they were just as scared as I!

I never heard such whimpering

And I began to see

That I was just as strange to them

As they were strange to me!

(From: What Was I Scared Of?)