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!

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Spiders! They’re Coming To Get You!

Spiders! They’re Coming To Get You!

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It’s that time of year when we’re suddenly under siege from spiders.

They’ve been hiding away growing -ing massive, and now they all decide they want to come and sit in your -ing living room, putting all their little feet up on your face whilst they watch the latest season of Big Brother.

Horrible little hairy-legged wank-faced twats!

If you walk around the streets in the evening, you’ll hear the piercing screech of women who’ve just discovered some hose spider crawling over their Ugg boots.

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The men, choking back a scream themselves and leaving a small trail of wee like a fleeing rabbit, have to pretend they’re not bothered by spiders.

I have a pair of tonfa sticks that I use for the dual purpose of tomping unwanted burglars AND spiders.  The size of some of the buggers (spiders – not burglars) lately has meant I’ve had to take two swings just to break their backs!

One knew a bit of spider kung fu, and blocked and then rolled, escaping under the bed where you just KNOW that bastard will wait until you fall asleep and them smother your face with its big plump abdomen as it licks at the moisture of your eyeballs.

They say we eat 6 spiders a year in our sleep, on average.  Just what the frikkin’ FRICK are they doing climbing into your mouth in the first place?!  It’s not a -ing spa, you little boss-eyed shits!

And how are they so fast?!  They never used to be!  Have they discovered Red Bull, or something??

And that’s just inside your house.

Take a stroll up your garden path, and what do you see?

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Nothing!

Because they -ing wait until it’s dark or the sun is in your eyes, and then, THEN they build webs Tarzan couldn’t have got out of.

And they hang there.  Huge fat squidgy body like a beer-bellied bully.

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Waiting for you to come flailing through their webs waving your hands around like a schizophrenic drunk, and then the drop into the hood of your coat and wait until you’re 10 miles down the M42 at 90mph before they crawl inside your -ing ear!!!

I sprayed a filthy great house spider with 90% pure Isopropyl Alcohol last night.

What did he do?

He slowly turned around and staggered back into his little den behind the mantelpiece.

30 minutes later I heard a crash and saw he’d thrown out an empty can of Special Brew.

I’ve created an alcoholic tramp of a spider who’s probably breeding little chavvy spider kids behind my mantelpiece.

I’m either going to get the git on Jeremy Kyle, or if he comes out for a spliff I’ll tonfa his ass.

And so the yearly battle begins…

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