Dear Vice,
Time was when bed bugs were something your dirty old Gran had during the war, or something your mum said to you in rhyme to scare you into going to sleep. But blood sucking parasites
such as bedbugs are back and their numbers have boomed by 500% in the last year. They lay eggs at such a rate that,
according to a recent report, 1/3 of the weight of an old duvet
consists of bedbugs, bedbug eggs, bedbug carcasses, bedbug shit, dust
mites and other allergen crap. All it takes
is one bug to hop from a bus seat
into a seam of your jeans, and suddenly they’re crawling all over your
walls, your sofa, your carpet and, inevitably, your bed…

Bedbugs were waiting for my ex-girlfriend in her new flat. Against my
better judgment, and because she wouldn’t stop crying, I let her sleep over at mine. Big mistake.

Some people don’t react to the
bites but luckily I did, so I noticed straight away. My legs, arms and back were covered in little red welts that itched like hell. I scratched so much
in my sleep that my sheets, as well as teeming with eggs, were smeared in blood.

So I called out exterminators to help me with my bedbug infestation. I expected a
geeky-looking dude in white overalls, but in walked a bad-ass wearing
black leather overalls, with a pack on his back like the ones they used in Ghostbusters to spray ghouls with
positive  mood slime.

He then proceeded to spray the shit out of my room, ruined an expensive set of
sheets, broke my bed, charged about £300, and pissed off
into the night. Frankly, I would have paid double that and blown him
if it meant eradicating those fuckers.

The exterminator’s advice was to never do anything in London, ever. Don’t use
public transport. Don’t travel at all. Never stay at anyone’s
house. Do take your duvet and pillows to the laundry every 3 months or
so. Do vacuum your bed and try not to sleep in your jeans.

Are you itching yet?

JOHNNY NO STARS