Yesterday afternoon, Claire and I were doing some spring cleaning and had to take an old wooden chair into the garage. I left Claire in the house, as we were expecting an online shopping delivery, so took the chair to the garage myself.

The door on the garage is rubbish and far too loose. After unlocking it, I worry that I’ll push down on the door too hard, in an attempt to open it, resulting in the door flying upwards and knocking me out.

As a result, I cautiously lifted the door. That is when I saw it. Quite possibly the largest spider I have ever seen, outside of a Resident Evil video game. Had it been in the front room, I would have burnt the house down – granted, possibly a little extreme, but didn’t Sigourney Weaver say to kill the Alien with fire?

Luckily this spider was outside and our garage is a safe distance from the house. However, there was still no way I was going to fully open the door, let alone walk into the garage.

The spider wasn’t even scared! Aren’t they supposed to run away from you? This one casually walked around, as if to say “This is my garage, bitch. You wanna deal wit me?”

It was then I spotted his mates. Granted they were not quite as large as him, but they were still big, meaty beasts. Three spiders all sitting on the garage door, like a gang from a ghetto, waiting to kill anyone that would dare question them.

Earlier that day, we were watching Bear Grills on TV. ‘Bear’ was somewhere in the jungle, teaching a group of Z-List celebrities how to cook tarantulas. Apparently they are a good source of food (the spiders, not the celebrities); and by eating them would stop the Z-list celebrities becoming Dead-list celebrities. With no word of a lie, I could live in my garage for a week, and survive on its spider population. Of course, this would mean catching, cooking and eating the spiders. Quite frankly, I would rather eat the artificial Christmas tree, which is also in our garage, than dine out one of those monsters.

After she had finished dealing with the Tesco delivery driver, Claire came to help me. While she doesn’t share my level of dislike for the spiders, she isn’t fearless and was equally as horrified by the squatters in our garage as I was. She bravely plucked up the courage to run like Usain Bolt under the door with bags of brick-a-brack and reposition the chair. It was a military operation, and one which Claire should win a George Cross, in recognition of her bravery.

The chair and bags are now in the garage. This is good news. The bad news is that the spiders are also in the garage. They are probably breeding. Soon there will be thousands of them. When I return to the garage, I’m bringing a flamethrower.