He got out of the bath today (no mean feat for a spider) all dripping wet and proceeded to tidy up his toys.
"What a polite young spider" you're possibly thinking at this stage, and you'd be right to. He the very model of arachnid courtesy and civility. He's nothing if not refined and chivalrous.
But wait! There he was still somewhat moist after towling himself down (I had turned away. I'm no prude but there are private moments in a spider's life that simply do not bear scrutiny bordering on intrusiveness). This can take awhile as size is relative and what gives him a head start viz lack of armpits, is soon downgraded (to quote Donald Rumsfeld) in his overabundance in thighs. I was going to say groinage, but ever the gentleman...
Anyhoo, there he was still damp as a Lib Dem election promise, pottering about with one of his favourite bath toys (see pic) when he went to switch off the light switch.
Oh silly Bart!
"No!!!" I intoned, loud enough to warrant the use of at least three exclamation marks. Just in time to save my soggy, spider chum from the possibility of a shock greater than that of Lewis Hamilton paying his taxes.
And so a minor disaster was averted. I'm not ashamed to say we had a brief hug in recognition of the moment, cementing our bromance in the best traditions of man-spider friendship stretching back, through the centuries, to a wee cave in Bonnie Scotland wherein sat The Bruce.
Bart says it goes back further to a Greek spider scaring Archimedes in the bath, but that's another story.
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