Sean's Stories

Posted by sean on October 27, 2019 at 6:21 pm in Spiders, Work Activities with No Comments

The clocks have now gone back, I had a good night’s sleep and have now settled down to blog the second installment of my Friday Frights, while Claire watches Liverpool play Spurs.

Where did we finish off last night? Oh yes, I had cleaned Neil Warnock and nursed him back to full, loud health. No idea what I am on about? Read this.

Let’s forget about Neil Warnock for this post and move onto the second scare I had at work. A scare, which I like to call, a ‘Friday Fright’.

Unlike dropping an ear bud onto a dirty bathroom floor, this ‘FF’ really was a moment of terror!

There couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes before the end of the day, and indeed the end of the week, when I saw it…

I had not seen it before. At first I thought it was a bit of string or a mark on the wall. It could have even been a bit of dirt – the IT Department isn’t the cleanest of locations.

I then realised, to my horror, what the mark on the wall really was, and the reason why I had not seen it before. The reason why I had not noticed the marking until Friday afternoon, was because it hadn’t been there before. Not there because the thing on the wall had legs – eight to be exact – and had previously not walked/crawled into my workspace territory.

There was no way I was going to deal with the eight-legged freak – anybody who knows me, or reads this blog will be fully aware of that! I purposely give spiders a wide berth. My two colleagues share my hate of the things, so there was no chance of me calling upon them for aid. Even if I was a spider lover, catching the thing would involve climbing up onto the table. Asking me to perform such a feat would be a wasted effort – you may as well suggest I conquer Everest, such is the impossible nature of the challenge.

A helpful colleague from another area of the office appeared. Clearly hearing my cowardly wimpers, they had made their way to my workspace, to see if they could help rescue me from the cause of my peril – I.e. catch the spider.

I was warned that it may not be possible to catch the spider, as it had positioned itself in the safety of a gap in the wall. What’s worse, is if the monster was disturbed and knocked from the wall, it could fall onto my desk or the floor! Horror of horrors!

Now thankfully BANNED by the British Board of Film Classification.

If the spider is hiding on the wall, I know where it is – despite hating the fucking thing. If it becomes lost under a pile of papers on my desk, or on the floor, I would forever be on edge, waiting to be attacked, as a spider runs up my arm or trouser leg.

It was decided that the safest thing for everyone involved, sadly including the spider, was to leave it well alone and hope it dies, or decides to go back to where it came from – how very Brexit!

Ever wondered why the European Union don’t seem bothered about the UK leaving?

I was happy with this. My positivity was certainly helped by the fact that I was going home for the weekend and I was able to forget about the scary creature for a couple of days.

Those couple of days are now over. I am due back at my desk in the morning. The spider will be waiting for me. Gulp…

Posted by sean on August 27, 2019 at 1:30 pm in Spiders with 1 Comment

… now meet Blognasties!


To view the horrific image, click on the “friendly” spider cartoon…

If the image caused you to spoil yourself, you were warned!

If you wish to blame someone for your dirty undies, my mum will take responsibility – she was the one who originally sent me this awful photo – without warning!

Posted by sean on June 24, 2019 at 11:29 pm in Spiders, Weather with No Comments

“Rain”, they said. “Thunderstorms”, they promised. What weather did we get today? Sun. Not just any old sun, but fecking hot sun.

This sun that would gorgeous, should you be on holiday, with an ice cold drink in your hand. I am not on holiday. I am at work all week. My office has no air conditioning, neither does my house.

Instead of a frozen exotic fruity drink, I’ve been making do with a mug of coffee. Normally I enjoy coffee, but in this heat? Naah, you’re alright. No wonder Italians drink espresso. You get the caffeine hit, but in a far smaller dose (or should that be ‘serving’?). Plus espresso normally tastes bloody brilliant.

I am now in bed. I am as good as naked, apart from a pair of underpants and some socks. This is the price that I am paying, in order to prevent my internal organs from cooking from within me, while I sleep.

I generally like to wrap up in lots of clothes and a duvet when going to bed. All this dressing up is partly down to my fear of spiders. If one was to crawl on me at 3am, while I am wearing jammies, chances are I won’t feel it – unless it is some mutant spider, in which case I am as good as dead anyway. By going to sleep practically nude, I am literally exposing myself to all manner of scary creatures, while at my most vulnerable.

As well as spiders, I am also at the mercy of woodlice, earwigs, moths, slugs, snails and puppy dog tails. Actually, can I change that last one to “bunny rabbit tails”?

Even writing those last few paragraphs, I feel like there are spiders on my skin! In that case, I think it’s best that I face my demons and try to get some sleep. Wish me luck, or better still, pray for me!

Posted by sean on May 8, 2019 at 9:00 pm in Spiders with No Comments

A few days ago, not long after returning home following the pug incident, I noticed a small woodlouse, crawling along our hallway floor. We often get woodlice in our new house – and no, we don’t live in a garden shed or under a stone.

The woodlouse popped straight into a small gap, under the skirting board. It was at that point, I started to worry about its well-being. I can honestly say, that this was the first time I have ever bothered with the health and safety of a woodlouse, but in this instance, I had good reason to be concerned, for the hideaway in which the creepy crawly had disappeared had previously been occupied by a huge spider.

Now if Sir David Attenborough has taught me anything, it’s that spiders are born small, they grow large, from eating bugs. Apart from the Latvian Leaf Spider, which lives off lettuce.

This woodlouse was not only committing suicide – disproving the theory that humans are the only living creature to purposely take their own life – but it was feeding my most feared of God’s creations… the arachnid.

Miraculously, the woodlouse appeared from under the skirting board. All of its legs appeared to be present and correct, there was no gaping fang wound in its back and it didn’t look at all scared. I am yet to see a woodlouse express any emotion, including fear, but if I was able to see how the woodlouse felt, I am sure he would be grinning from antennae to antennae, while singing “Zippity doo dah”.

Right… if Woody was so happy to go into the wall cavity of MY house, he can do me a favour. Woody can let me know if there really is a spider in there.

By capturing my trusty spy, I was able to attach a micro camera to his head. The camera was secured using super glue from Pound Land. This is totally humane, so you do not need to tweet Ricky Gervais, asking that he call me a c*** on social media. The glue is of such poor quality, that the camera will just fall off Woody’s noggin, painlessly, within 24 hours of it being attached.

Somebody get this brave woodlouse a George Cross

Camera on head, I sent Woody back into the depths of the wall, to see what MI5’s latest recruit and the camera could find.

Woody returned with this photo…

Posted by sean on December 27, 2018 at 11:15 pm in Rabbits, Roman's Album, Spiders with No Comments

We’ve just got into bed. A little later than planned. About an hour ago and prepared to carry out the final duty of the day, we put Roman back into his cage. Claire was studying a mark on our ceiling. It was then I noticed it. A huge spider on the wall…

What the hell was it doing? I’ve been through this before – spiders of that enormity are only allowed to make themselves known in September and failing that, JRR Tolkien novels.

The spider was so high up the wall, that Claire was unable to remove it using her usual humane technique, involving a coffee jar and small book.

I am an arachnophobic, so was hardly going to act like the brave husband and catch the creature with my bare hands. That’s if I could have even reached above the light switch, let alone to the spider’s high-rise lair.

Our neighbour must have been concerned about the noise, as there was a lot of girly shrieks – mostly from me. These caused our pet rabbit, Roman – helpful as ever – to stop eating his favourite treat of dried mango, to stare at Claire and me, with a look as if to say “Oh my God! You are so embarassing! You are not my bunny parents”. Well, he is a teenager in rabbit years, so that kind of behaviour and disdain towards the hands which feed him, is to be expected.

I told Claire in no uncertain terms, that we had three choices, as to how to deal with the spider – attack it with bug spray – suck it up with the vacuum cleaner – ignore it and go to bed. Granted, the latter wasn’t my preferred option, but I didn’t want force my wife into battle, while shirking my own duties.

Additionally, if we were to take the bug spray or vacuum cleaner option, it would almost certainly result in the demise of the spider, and I didn’t want to solely take responsibility for the death of a living creature.

We decided to use our weapon of choice. Everyone has their favourite – James Bond the Walther PPK, Indiana Jones the lasso, while Donald Trump goes for the big red button. We have a Dyson vacuum cleaner. We have used it in many a battle against spiders, with a 25% success rate. So reliable. Plus, I think its creator, James Dyson, lives in Bath, so if it ever fails, we can send the boys round… and ask him very politely if he would kindly repair the vacuum cleaner for us, as the warranty has expired. If he declines, we will apologise for wasting his valuble time, before promptly vacating his property.

The vacuum cleaner approach failed. Again. Upon spotting the Dyson, the spider made a run for it, back into a hole in the wall. Honestly, it’s pathetic – Henry Hoover eats spiders for breakfast! It was time to go for Plan B – chemical warfare…

Claire sprayed Raid insect killer into the spider’s den. Long-term readers of my blog will know that I swear by the stuff. Mainly something along the lines of, “You f**king spray! You had better kill that spider c**t!”

It was only when Claire started to look for the creature, post-spray, that she saw it on the wall! I’ve seen enough Freddy Kruger movies to know that you NEVER return to the home of the killer, once they’ve apparently been destroyed. I don’t think Claire has seen any of Wes Craven’s work, which would explain her error of judgement.

After some more screaming and shouting, Claire reached for the previously failed Dyson and attacked with all its suction. The spider flew up the tube.

Despite leaving the vacuum cleaner running for a minute, we wanted to satisfy ourselves that the spider had been captured – dead or alive, we weren’t fussy. Once the suction had been turned off, we inspected the Dyson. There was no sign of the spider!

Without wanting to sound gruesome, it was probably smashed into dust, by the force of the vacuum. But just imagine if it hadn’t? Imagine if it was a superhero spider, who hung onto the tube, withstanding the great force of the suction. Tonight, it’ll crawl out and kill the two of us, in our sleep.

If this is my last blog post, it’s been a pleasure, but all good things must come to an end.

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