Arachnophobia

Arachnophobia


I think my bath has become the earthly portal between the arachnid world and Devon or at the risk of setting off an Orson Well’s type scare - the rest of the world. I mean how else can I explain the numbers of spiders that end up in my bath. And we’re not talking about little money spiders either were talking huge great big ones.

It has to be a portal, something like Arnie uses in Terminator, where he ends up naked and smoking under a flyover somewhere. Otherwise, how else would they get into my bath? I know they are fit looking buggers but I just can’t see them climbing up the drainpipe, especially in a busy family house, people (not counting the teenage boys) having showers everyday. Plus the plug is one of those metal sorts that gets pulled down by a mechanism under the bath. I can’t really see them squeezing past that, especially if the were knackered after climbing the spout and hanging on when the water comes gushing down.

So the only obvious explanation has to be the Arnie type portal. They do not seem to be too bothered by this method of transport and are in the main hairier than Arnie is. I must admit that when I enter the bathroom I am never sure what might be waiting for me. I mean these fairly biggish bastards may just be the scouting party. Checking us out before their mates come piling through the portal looking for lunch.

I try to be good being an anti war - veggie type as you know, but I think it is my duty to protect the world. Look I’m not looking for the Nobel peace prize here (although it would look good on my CV and perhaps I could get a better job) but I am saving the world from a fate worse than Bush.

So think of me each day as I go on my lone crusade into the bathroom armed with nothing else but a water glass, a postcard and my terror, ready to do battle once again. A quick struggle to get em in the glass, a tight fit for some, clap the card on the glass and then quickly out the window. Safe again!

And no I am not a girl thanks very much!