My wife J and I are out on a street round the corner from our home disposing of wasps. I'm about to nip back to get an aerosol for destroying wasps' nests from where I keep it in a shed in our garden, when I realise the problem is bigger than that. This isn't, as I can see, a nest - this is a wasp heap.
As we ponder the situation, a silver Mercedes comes screeching round the corner, and pulls up suddenly. It's a man I know in the City Council, and he's brought the council leader with him. This is a young guy (I think he was Indian), full of enthusiasm for wasp killing, energetic and keen to solve our problem. He begins pulling huge translucent plastic barrels from the boot of the car - they're full of a toxic-looking brown liquid, and he hurls them up in the air... they bounce violently when they hit the ground, spilling their contents in an uncontrolled manner.
I recall feeling pleased that the problem was being dealt with so vigorously, this relief turning to disappointment when it appeared that the solution was not being provided in what would seem to be an effective manner. I'm sure that this aspect of the dream was in some way influenced by a recent experience with plumbing contractors.