You dirty rat

I had great plans for this column. 'Twas to be a surreal journey into the darkest recesses of my psyche, an exploration of my deepest fears. It all started from a seemingly innocuous article in a local freesheet. "South Dublin neighbourhoods under siege as estates turned into rat runs" the story read.

Rats terrorising suburbia? Oh dear. Are we being overrun with my most despised of Earth's creatures, I asked myself? (Well, most hated non-human creatures, to be precise.)

The horror. The horror.

I anticipated this would happen some day. Did you know there are way more rats in Ireland than people, that you are never more than 10 feet away from one of the dirty creatures in a city? Did you know there's a breed of rat called the large-toothed giant rat? Can you even imagine how vile it must be? And what about the shaggy swamp rat or the Sulawesian spiny rat?

I'm shuddering thinking about them, checking under my desk, tightening my trouser clips to prevent the little buggers from scrambling up my shins.

"Children are being scattered by these pests tearing past them at rush hour," the article continued. ". . . many with mobile phones stuck to their heads."

Rats have a rush hour? Where are they all going at once? And what are they doing with mobile phones? Plotting global domination? Or do they dominate the world already, unbeknownst to us brainwashed humans?

What's going to happen to me? And my poor innocent wife and child? Are we to be taken as slaves by our rodent masters? (I'm losing it completely. I expect no pity - I'm well aware half of you only read this column for the vicarious thrill of watching my gradual mental disintegration.)

Do you get the general idea? Great isn't it? Had you believing I am so mental I actually envisioned hordes of Rattus Rattus ripping through estates in Leopardstown, didn't I?

Still, though, short-cutting motorists aren't called rat-runners for nothing. Rats will gnaw and burrow through anything to get where they want, with nary a thought to the consequences, like man motorists.

The standard Rattus Commuterus is the drone of the motorised rat fraternity - thousands of them can be seen charging blindly each day from their nest in search of fodder, repeating their drudge homewards each evening. They are to be pitied rather than scorned. But in their ranks is a number of distinct sub-species, mainly differentiated by their size.

Closely resembling Rattus Commuterus is the Rattus Peoplecarriericus. This mutant is typically larger than its smaller cousin, resembling as it does a Mother Rat carrying its brood of fat little babies on its back. It is (usually) benign, and not to be feared.

Unlike Rattus SUVicus, which is a nasty, voracious and malignant subspecies, notable for its utter disregard for its fellow rodents and grotesque physical form. It appears to have eaten another rat whole and be wearing platform shoes. Exterminate on sight.

Its evil twin is Rattus Whitevanicus - a blockier, coarser version of SUVicus. It's noisy and dirty and will attempt to instigate mating with anything it passes. Again, destruction is the advised option.

And then there's the Daddy of them all, Rattus Articulatus. A hefty beast, best known for travelling in convoys that destroy everything in their paths, like locusts or army ants. Run away. Any attempts to halt are futile. It has a cousin, Rattus Cartransporterus, that is distinguished from Articulatus by its ability to carry smaller, weaker members of the species. This is the breeder rat, spreading the plague wide across the land.

Together, they are a virulent infestation of the suburban neighbourhoods of towns and cities across the land.

What we need is a Pied Piper of Ireland. Step up Martin Cullen, only you can save us now!! (On second thoughts, we're doomed)