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!

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