1462. Wiggles

There was one thing Ferdinand disliked immensely and that was to have to powder his wig every morning and put it on. (He lived in the seventeenth century). The whole wig thing took a substantial chunk out of his daily morning programme. It was far easier simply to sleep with his wig still on and then pat it flat upon rising.

But then Ferdinand’s pate began to get itchy. His wife looked and there was a nest of nits in his hair having a wonderful time. And of course there were the inevitable family of earwigs setting up home in the wig itself.

Ferdinand was rather partial to that wig. It was like shoes; a wig had to be “broken in”. This wig fitted perfectly. Ferdinand gave the wig a good shake hoping to expel the bugs. It did not work.

Ferdinand’s wife, Maria Constanze Cäcilia Josepha Johanna Aloysia Fischer, bought him a brand new wig and gave it to Ferdinand for Christmas. He was most grateful, although for a start on alternate days he wore his old wig for the sake of comfort.

The nits and earwigs loved their new home.

449. Nits, lice, ticks, fleas, mites

Jojo was a caveman. (Yes, they had names back then). He had a wife and kids. Lots. And he had nits. And lice. And ticks. And fleas. And mites. They drove him nuts.

His wife had all these bugs too. So did the kids.

Jojo was an enterprising caveman. He organised a nit-picking day. The whole cave complex came together for the day, and like all great apes, they went through every square inch of skin and killed the flesh-biting bastards.

Phew! The relief!

To celebrate, Jojo went off and killed a bear. He brought it back, proudly on his shoulders. They cooked the meat and had a feast.

That night, the children slept snuggly under the bear skin. By morning, the bear’s nits had spread.