Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Have spiders got some sort of collective vendetta against just me at the moment – or is it everyone?

There aren’t all that many in the rest of the house, but every time I look up in my bedroom, Mini-Spider Hit Squad is moving into position surrounding me!

OK, they’re hardly going to eat me in my sleep, but I can’t say I’m too excited at the prospect of eating THEM in MY sleep, either!

So 6 had to die yesterday, and 4 the day before that.  And this morning another bugger was there!

But I suspect these are just the advance party.

Bigger beasties are lurking in the doorways…

I came home last week to find a medium-sized spiddy sat in the middle of his web – naked, no less!!!  AND it was blocking off the entire front door to my home!

What the fuck did he think he was up to???

Luckily, I hadn’t taken my bike gloves off at the time, so a swift right cross let him know his name wasn’t down, and he wasn’t coming in.

I think after 3 days of that, he either ended up in Spider Infirmary, or my cunning change to a back-handed knuckle strike felled the arsehole arachnid.

But lo and behold, a Morning Spiddy appeared for attack, covering the door so when I stepped out to ready my bike, I’d be covered in web like in one of those old Tarzan movies!

Luckily the spider never managed to sink his fangs into me, as I always escaped before it had chance but this morning was close!

Spiky hair is a bastard for collecting webs, too!

Then, as I rode my bike up the driveway towards the road, elated to be escaping my home without being mummified and having my juices sucked from me (and not in the good way that women can do), they had one last-ditch attempt!

Right at the top of the driveway, to my horror I spotted another Tarzan-catcher web, cunningly using an overhanging Holly Tree to cover my escape route.

And Harry The Hairy Spider was home!

I tried moving as far to my right as I could, but the left mirror sliced through the bottom support strand of the web as I rode my bike past.

This caused the whole Spider-Web combo to swing around in a huge arc, disappearing from my field of view around the side of my helmet.  Last known trajectory: the left side of the escaping biker.

Staring straight ahead lest I see hairy legs clinging to my visor, I opened the throttle and kept it open, ignoring the crawling/biting feelings on my poor exposed neck and from within my leathers.

If I’m lucky, the wee fucker is roadkill somewhere between my house and my workplace.

If I’m unlucky, he’ll be waiting for me back at home with a New Improved Web possibly promoted by Barry Scott of Cilit Bang fame.

If I’m REALLY unlucky, he’s to my side right now, hiding in the pile of leathers, waiting to jump on me when I next touch them, so that I scream like a girl and all the women in the office laugh at me

I -ing hate spiders!

Chompy The Secret Pet Spider – Where Are You?

Chompy The Secret Pet Spider – Where Are You?

Chompy is a secret pet of mine, that I’ve had and trained for months.

Most of you will know that I hate spiders. That’s ok, because they hate me right back. If I see them they die. If they’re too bif to stamp on or whack with a rolled-up Bromsgrove Standard, then they get shot with my air pistol.

This war has been going on for years.

I did allow a small spider caller Tarquinn to live in my bedroom for months, before he was found dead in a freak accident involving a Micro Machines Porsche 911 and possibly the Ipswich strangler (I might re-post the blog sometime), and last year there was a small jumping spider we named Pedro who lived on my desk at work until some hot-desking Nobber went and drowned him in a can of Coca Cola.

I first saw Chompy sat by the base of the toilet, where he had a spot he’d relax in (do spiders ever relax? I’m pretty sure they’re like some kind of paranoid psychopath hopped up on super strength amphetamines permanently, but whatever…) which came as quite a shock to me at first, in that “ACK! THERE’S A -ING SPIDER THERE!!!” kind of way you get when you see an unexpected spider. I grabbed the toilet brush and had a quick go at crushing his head, but he swiftly turned around and ambled off underneath the skirting board.

Partly because people think I’m a big jessie to be scared of a spider, and maybe partly because I’m getting older and more tolerant, I decided that I’d give Chompy the chance to live in harmony with me. The deal was he’d stay out the way, going back under the skirting board when I took a dump, and he’d NEVER sneak up and surprise me, and in return I’d let him have a go at eating the horde of Silverfish that invade our bathroom whenever the lights go out.  It was a good deal!

Chompy was a good learner, and only once snuck out while I was sat on my throne and tried to lick my heel. When he heard me make a tiny strangled noise of fear and lift my leg up above my head possibly shooting out a bit of scared poo, he turned around and went back under his skirting board in shame.

He grew quickly on his diet of Silverfish, and got to be a good healthy size – much bigger than any spider I’d usually keep around (in one piece, anyway!).

My fiancée Lill Boo didn’t believe me at first that Chompy existed, and of course I never told her where to look, and he had a fair few months before she caught sight of him (only recently) and I had to come clean about him and where he lived.

After several days with no sign of Chompy, I’m worried for him.

Have I offended him?

Has he grown too fat on Silverfish, and got stuck under the skirting board?

Has something even more sinister happened to him?

I still call his name as I head up the stairs each day, hoping… hoping…

Where’s Chompy? I miss you, man!

Spiders In The Workplace???

Spiders In The Workplace???

How come you never see spiders in your workplace?

I mean, when you’re at home, it’s a pretty regular occurance to see a big old spiddy making a break for it across the living room carpet, or sat there on the wall trying to intimidate you.

The big buggers, I mean – not the little runts.

In all my time of working, I think I’ve witnessed one big spiddy at work.

You might say that it’s because of the work cleaners, but come on!  I’m pretty sure they’re crap compared to The Wife or Mother that every home should have!  Plus there are a lot more places at work that will never be touched.  So I’m not accepting that it’s the cleaners, because even then some of the critters are bound to have a little gallop around the place at some point.

So why at home and never at work???

Are all spiders dole-dossing, layabout, work-avoiding, adolescent scum???

The bastards.

Revenge Of The Spiders

Revenge Of The Spiders

Most of you are by now aware of my raging war against my sworn mortal enemy – the spider.

Well, it’s not ALL spiders.  A few weeks back, one of the other Legal Monkeys discovered a small spider on his desk.  He named him ‘Pablo’, and Pablo was a good spiddy, who never caused anyone any harm.

I saved him from the be-gloved hand of the cleaners several times, but whilst on holiday Pablo was brutally drowned in another of the Legal Monkeys can of Coke.

Not long before that I discovered ‘Lifty’ – a house spider who very weirdly would lay on his belly and lift all his legs in the air if you blew on him.

He’d gone before I could get the HD cam out for proper footage the following morning.

Fast forwarding to later that week, another huge (Bad) spider was having a swing around my house, no doubt planning all kinds of hairy-legged badness – and of course, being over the size of a small childs fingernail had to be killed for the sake of all humanity.

As he was a big ole bad boy, I couldn’t risk him grabbing hold of my Ginty Stick and beating me to death, so I drew my trusty air pistol and shot him.

It seems that this filthy great lummox of a spider had some connections, and last night I was the victim of a violation of terrible proportions…

As I sat alone on the couch, watching ‘The Inbetweeners’, I felt a wee itch on my shin.  I idly scratched at it only to feel it itch even more.

Thinking I had a fly up the leg of my jeans, or some fluff or something, I grabbed the leg of my jeans and gave it a good wiggle, and then



I think I was sick in my mouth a little with the shock, and the only small pleasure I could try and take from the whole ordeal was watching Legrape The Spider running around in circles as the legs on one side were all damaged where I’d scratched at him through my jeans!

After a while I put a sock over my hand and gently punched him to death.

The spider



Come On Then, You Hairy-Legged Bastards!!!

Come On Then, You Hairy-Legged Bastards!!!

This blog was originally posted in August 2007 on another site.  I’m re-posting it as there seems to be another plague of these huge spiders – except I haven’t seen a single one in my house so far!  You’ll have to excuse the crap camera phone pics:

Old Mr Spooky-Giblets has done it again!

A year ago, when I posted about the Plague Of Daddy Long Legs in the UK, I predicted this would happen!

Now, here is what I was greeted with as I was heading to bed last night:

That’s a spiddy that you wouldn’t get a pint glass over without seriously ‘remodeling’ the length of his legs.

As if they were planning some sort of peaceful -ing poker game or something, as I looked towards the other walls I saw this:

And this:

Ooh yes – the pics don’t show them in their full hairy-assed badness, but these are all the same size as Mr T’s head.

So I shot them with an airpistol.  Fuck them.

Ok, so I shot two of them.  The first one, I took out a trusty Tonfa stick, and after two attempts to mash me some arachnid brains, his Ninja skills proved more than my own, and, dropping to the floor, he galloped off under the telephone table.  By the time I’d got downstairs, he was nowhere to be seen.  Keep an eye on the next Grand National, because that thing needed a damn saddle on, and I’d happily whip it before it left the enclosure!  Either way it’d be a winner!

As all modern Ninja should have some firearms skill, I took no chances with the other two.

And they weren’t alone!

I’ve killed another three equally well-bred beasties in my house in the previous two nights!

I mean, you don’t often see a Bastard of spiders (that’s the collective name for a group of them) this size!  They don’t get on!  One of those fkrs patrolling the halls like the school bully who got made a Prefect is more than enough in one household.

Even scarier, they don’t get that big overnight – so where the hell were they all hiding???

I don’t know how long spiders live, but I’d bet any money that these are all at least a year old and the product of those dopey bastard Daddy Long Legs that we got millions of last Summer!

Well done to them!

*claps sarcastically*


As I was posting this blog, I saw what I believe to be Gallopy on the sofa opposite me!  This time I tomped him with the TV Guide (two hits), and put the carcass on a box of Silk Cut to give a size reference!  Bear in mind his legs aren’t what they were in his running days, and stretched out they were at least twice what you see here: