Arachnid Invasion

For the past week I have noticed a sudden influx of spiders into my flat. The eight legged critters are claiming asylum in my living room, bathroom and more worringly my bedroom. Just this morning I awoke to the sound of a blood curdling scream, I stumbled onto the landing to find my daughter's new boyfriend cowering in a corner as a spider the size of a toddlers hand made it's way across the floor, in the uncertain, crazy way spiders often do. Two years ago I would have seen it off with the sole of my Croc however I have since read that the male spider is really brave and has plucked up the courage to go out into the unknown to find a mate. He doesn't have long to live so he blindly fumbles about chatting up pieces of fluff, and hopefully a real life lady spider, until they succumb to his charms. As a single man myself I can empathise with the poor arachnids plight. Poor begger only has a week or two tops to find a lovely leggy lady, have his merry way with her and then carks it. In my mind it's more reason to give him all the help I can, even if it's with a glass and a piece of card and a shove into the garden where I'm sure he'll be better placed to find the spider of his dreams, without having to wade through the dust behind my settee. My daughter, the modern feminist that she is, says that is an extra reason to rid our home of eight legged fiends. Especially if they're men on the hunt females. She says who needs a man who has his wicked way and then walks out leaving you with hundreds of little ones to look after! I'd never looked at it from mother spider's perspective but then why would I? I'm not a spider.