In Bruges (great film), a mosquito made itself at home in my van. It became so annoying and irritating that I nicknamed him Tony. Whenever I thought he'd gone away or he went quiet, he suddenly reappeared with a vicious scream in my ear.
Following a night on a Rotterdam campsite, the Blairite mosquitoes have feasted on me en masse. Ok Tony, you've made your point; you've pierced my flesh, drawn blood and left me extremely irritated. Now F off.