The myth that ants are hard-working, or in any way capable, really annoys me. I will accept that maybe one ant in every thousand might rise to a level of competence, and that one in every ten-thousand might, in addition to being competent, also be diligent and conscientious. It doesn't matter, since these rare virtues are diluted by the unfettered idiocy of their co-ants. I posit that what ants have achieved collectively as a species has been done through sheer weight of numbers - the infinite monkeys knocking out a rough first draft of Hamlet approach to advancement.
Every night, at the moment, large numbers of ants will emerge from the cupboard where the boiler used to be. They will scamper aimlessly around on the kitchen floor tiles for a few hours, then they will return to their nest empty handed. They never venture onto the counters or work surfaces where there might conceivably be food. The other night, as an experiment, I left a spent carton of apple and mango juice by the sink to see if they would attempt to harvest the pithy residue of its fruity goodness. Of course, they didn't go anywhere near it. The only reason that I tolerate this nonsense from the boiler cupboard ants is because I am trying to be kinder to living things, which entails not killing them. I still openly call them retards to their little upturned ant faces and I stand by that. Cancel me all you want. Ants are retarded. They can't even rise to the autisitc flower goonery of bees.
