We had an interesting conversation with my landlord the other day. I wrote him saying my flat was in urgent need of fumigation because I had happened upon a giant roach in the kitchen.
For a good measure, I said I had left the roach dancing on the kitchen floor, perhaps as evidence I hadn’t made the story up, or somehow implicate me in the illegal smuggling of live insects from Nairobi since that would mean I had violated my visa regulations.