He got up and ran into the shed; "get out you daft sod..."
He's clambering around in the shed, over benches and his bike stand, desperately trying to evict said bumblebee.
"You stupid git, get out - you'll be shut in all night and you'll die!"
I looked up from my glass of wine. "He can't understand you, you know..."
At this point, Mr D is dismantling his entire workshop so that he can get to this bee, and coax it outside, blaspheming expansively as he's carrying tools and equipmen outside. He's even talking about leaving the workshop open overnight - exposing a lifetime's collecion of tools - for one bumblebee.
Eventually, the offending bee obliged and flew away, without a word of gratitude!
Mr D: "Oh, you're welcome fuzzy arse... you'd better pollenate my fucking bay tree for this, you fluffy yellow bastard!!"