Updates as they happen.
Update: Like a dwarven ninja, he sprayed the nest with gouts of foam and ran like hell. This would have been a much better plan if the nest hadn't had a back exit on the other side of the pillar, from which wasps came boiling out.
Fortunately, like the ninja, James was long gone. The wasps, badly poisoned, began dropping to the porch, which we had naturally forgotten to cover with a newspaper or anything else.
After a few minutes when it became obvious none of them were getting airborne, Sir Waspbane went back in and doused both exits with more poisoned foam. There were apparently no survivors, and he retired, unscathed and victorious, to wash his hands really really really well.
Pumping poison like that into the environment fills me with guilt, but what else can you do?