I hate spiders. Although I don’t hate them as much as when I was little, when the slightest hint of a spider (or indeed a piece of fluff that looked a bit like a spider, or anything with more than two legs that was smaller than a cat) terrified me to such a degree that I always had to go and get someone to help sort it out. And I’d practically shit myself if there was ever one in the bath, because bath spiders are always 1) huge and 2) ninja stealth masters.

I’m better now. I still don’t like the big ones (especially the ones that are so big you can see the hairs on their legs) but little ones are no problem. I have no qualms in hoovering them up or indeed going mano a mano with them armed only with a piece of toilet paper and some squeezy fingers.

Of course, the pacifists and spider rights people would say I don’t have to kill them, but if I didn’t kill them, they’d come and crawl over me and bite me. (I’ve never been bitten by a spider. But it would just take once to make all those childhood fears justified.) Perhaps they’re just being friendly when they come and crawl on you. But I’m not willing to risk that. If I see a spider and it’s someplace where it might a) fall on me b) crawl on me or c) fall onto something near me, it has to go — preferably into a Hoover.

Why are spiders scary, though? Is it the fact they have far too many legs? Possibly. Is it the fact they’re unpredictable and prone to sitting still for hours at a time then suddenly springing into action when provoked? Perhaps. Is it their colour? So you’re saying black things are scary? You racist.

Perhaps there isn’t a reason. Phobias are generally pretty irrational, after all. The statistical likelihood of being bitten by a spider is probably pretty slim, unless you — ouch!

Just kidding. I haven’t really been bitten by a spider. To my knowledge, there are no spiders in this room at this time (though writing that sentence has, of course, made me paranoid) so I’m safe. There is one of those weird semi-transparent ones hanging in the bathroom, though, which may have to be destroyed at some point in the very near future, just in case it invites its big hairy friends over for a party.

So anyway. Spiders can sod off back down the plughole. They can spin all the pretty dew-covered webs they like in the garden, so long as they don’t scuttle across my floor while I’m watching a scary movie or playing Silent Hill.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lovely girlfriend sitting in my room playing Katamari who needs some attention. Good night. Don’t let the spiders bite.