The ants have won the war

I give up. The ants win. White flags (and a removal lorry please).

After a period of absence where we mistakenly thought the ant baits had finally taken effect, the ants mounted their most viscious attack to date. Their weapon: sheer numbers. The troops marched in overnight and by morning they were 10 per square inch across every visible surface in one quarter of the kitchen. Word had got round that the scum on our cupboards was particularly tasty and in they swarmed. The several hundred I killed had little effect and just left anty-antibacterial spray dripping off the bottom of the cupboards.

24 hours later, after I had resigned myself to letting the ants have the kitchen, they had vanished. Not a trace. Every morning I expected to see them when I reached sleepily for my branflakes, but nothing. Completely fooled. They weren't gone, they were regrouping. Feasting on the proceeds of the last raid, they were building up the troops ready for the return attack (strangely on the opposite side of the kitchen).

That's it, I've had enough. We may have won the majority of the battles, but the ants have most certainly won the war.