our old house was at the back of an allotment so every now and again we'd get the odd rat in the veranda, the dog was fucking useless she used to sit and bark at them but never made any effort to kill the fucking things.

anyway I once killed a rat with a bottle of wine, proper hardcore, spotted the rat, twatted it with the bottle of wine, wine bottle shattered and we had a damp rat to dispose of.

Another time the rat got the jump on me, I was armed with a hammer, it ran out of me dads tool cupboard and ran straight up my arm and onto my shoulder, it stopped and had a look around then made some crazy suicidal dive for freedom, at this point I wish I could say that I was calm but I was screaming like a bitch and battering my own arm with the hammer that I was holding, old Master Splinter was cool as a cucumber, he made his death defying leap and escaped to freedom.