Man the barricades!

My battle-worn neighbour had warned me about the slugs which plague our allotment. Ever the worrier, I've long considered my strategy. Apparently a line of sand, grit, or bran, is said to turn away intruders. But my manual tells me that these clever fellows can tunnel through the soil. Tunnel? Slugs? They don't teach you that in school.

I like a perimeter as much as the next man, but what happens when my defences are breached? An enemy who can operate in three dimensions makes a tricky adversary.

I started off the with individual executions, courtesy of my spade. A messy business, and lacking in efficiency. I contemplated an enforced emigration beyond the allotment gates, but Titchmarsh reckons they find their way back.

So, I've decided to invest in traps. I will lure these slugs to a watery death. And the temptation that will bring about their fall? Beer. Yep, slugs love beer. Who'd have thought it? Could this shared common ground ease the tensions simmering between us? Not likely.

Discovery of the week: Tesco Value Beer