Actually, that has just reminded me of a little story - hope I'm not repeating something I've told you before...
When I was 40 I was at drama school in Guildford, sharing a house with a couple of female fellow students. One morning I was summoned to the kitchen by a scream. I rushed down and was confronted by a very large rat sitting on the worktop, not moving. Although alive, it clearly was not in the best of health - the tail was twitching, but it obviously wasn't going anywhere. It had a rather resigned look in its eyes, and I almost felt sorry for the revolting creature. Had it been anything else, I'd have picked it up and tossed it far away, but it was... well... a rat...

I eventually summoned up the courage to find our largest saucepan. I'm not really into beating things to death, so I... well... I... I just covered it up. It's tail, of course, was still sticking out o the saucepan (memory suggests it was about 3 feet long, but that may be a slight exaggeration). I then boldly called the council and waited for a real man to appear. (Fortunately the girls had disappeared into town, so they saw none of this.) Council chappy with thick gloves arrives, lifts saucepan, says "hmm", takes it outside and dispatches it with a large brick (the wonders of modern science).
When the girls got back (having phoned first!), they asked me what had happened to the rat. "Don't worry," said your hero modestly, "I got rid of it."
(If I have told this story before and this version differs in any way whatsoever, I claim the right of poetic licence in my defence.)