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This is a question I don't understand the attraction

Smaug says: Ricky Gervais. Lesbian pr0n. Going into a crowded bar, purely because it's crowded. All these things seem to be popular with everybody else, but I just can't work out why. What leaves you cold just as much as it turns everyone else on?

(, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 14:54)
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Boris and the near side window…

About 6 months ago I went out to my car and spotted what most people have experienced at least once in their lifetime – A little spider had made himself a home somewhere inside the casing of one of the door mirrors on my car. Industrious little shit-wad he was, and in no time at all he had beavered away feverishly, creating a cute little web between the mirror and the door.

Now I respect all forms of life – I avidly watch David ‘King-dong’ Attenborough and everything. So I simply thought ‘Awww’ to myself, then wished the little fella good luck on his quest for a lunch of insecty goodness before driving away contentedly.

The next day however, his web had grown exponentially…and my car door was beginning to resemble a set from ‘Tales from the Crypt’. "Hmm – that’s becoming quite unsightly" I thought – but once again I didn’t want to disrupt the delicate balance of nature, so whilst humming the tune to ‘Circle of Life’ I let him off with a warning.

The present Mrs Twisty Cheeky however, had other Ideas. Unfortunately a few days later, she was dressed to the nines for a dinner party, and when she leaned to open the passenger side door she inadvertently put her hand through a thick sticky string of web which by now consisted of so much secreted spider arse produce that if it was stretched out, would reach from here to Alpha Centauri.

“Yeeeuuch!” She screamed…“What the twat?”. “Oh, It’s only Boris” I replied nonchalantly (I had named him by now) “Everybody’s gotta eat you know”. “I don’t give a slippery wank-spanner!” – She yelped before fixing me with an icy glare that showed she meant business and declared: “GET.FUCKING.RID!”

Begrudgingly, I picked up a twig from the ground and with a touch of sorrow, I ruined Boris’ own dinner plans for the night as with commanding chivalry I trashed his web and surely consigned poor Boris to a brief fleeting life of starvation and despair.

Not a trace was left…until the next day.

It appears that I had pissed Boris off.

Now, I don’t know if he got his mates to help, or put in some fucking overtime or what, but the next morning my passenger side door was so plastered in dew covered webby threads that I half expected Tobey Maguire to jump out and start brawling the Green Goblin in the middle of it.

‘Fuck this for a lark’ I thought and with the diamond-cutting stare from the missus wedged firmly in my mind, I again pick up something from the ground and mercilessly remove every trace of cacky webness from the mirror area.

Yet the next morning…and every morning after...I am greeted by the same appalling sight - Boris 1 – Mr Twisty Cheeky 0. By now my car has had so much silk shat over it that if I had stored it all up I would now be able to put half of China out of business.

Over the months Boris has survived the heat, the wind and the rain. In fact, the only time I’ve properly seen him is when I’m driving and I check the mirror. It appears that at these moments he likes to venture out and catch the breeze – and when I accelerate he likes to cling on to his web and vibrate manically as if it’s some kind of extreme sport. What I must look like, driving along on my own, with the passenger side window down and me leaning over, flapping about wildly and shouting ‘CUNT!’ as I try and fail to wallop a whooping Boris as he twangs along merrily cheering whatever is the spider equivalent of ‘Cowabunga’...is anybody’s guess.

I have rammed sticks, bits of plastic, ice scrapers, credit cards and assorted things I find lying around into to the mirror casing – Every day he’s back with a freshly spun ‘fuck you fatty’ message of defiance.

I have run him through a car wash – blasted him with Jet-wash – sprayed aerosol cans in the mirror cavities…all to no avail.

There could be a fucking nuclear war and there’d be nothing left but cockroaches and Boris, clinging to my mirror like a crab to a pube

What is the fucking hairy cunt-brick bastard attraction with my fucking car door mirror? Surely there’s got to be better places to set up your web – he’s gotta be lucky if he gets to eat half a gnat a week! And he must have sussed by now that he’d have more luck with a web that doesn’t get systematically destroyed every 12 hours or so from a ranting looney 50000 times his size?

Why doesn’t he just give up? The little fucking webby BASTARD!.

Believe me, my car door mirror is not all that brilliant. It just can’t be worth the grief - It boggles the mind...

*and breathe*
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 9:32, 12 replies)
I think Boris' brother lives in my car...
Glad it's not just me then. I'm not particularly fond of spiders, nor am I scared of them, however it didn't stop me screaming like a girly when Boris MkII abseiled into my face off the rear-view mirror, when I was doing 90 down the motorway.

Little fucking webby bastards indeed.

Good read, thanks, have a 'click'.
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 9:40, closed)
BOOOOOOOOOOOOORIS THE SPIDER
*clangy G5 chord over chugging bass*

And a click for "I don't give a slippery wank-spanner," not to mention a highly entertaining story. Good luck in your continued campaign against the evil arachnid.
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 9:48, closed)
Ah yes...

That's where he got his name from.

Unfortunately, Boris has much more staying power than the great John Entwhistle of 'The Who'...who wrote that song.
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 9:50, closed)
Yes, but you are exhibiting far more patience than the great Mr Entwistle
who, I believe, resolved the problem with a book.
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 9:54, closed)
I too have a Boris, and
it's a pity I can't click more than once as that was fab!
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 9:52, closed)
This
has made me laugh like a loon on what's been an otherwise, pretty dreary, day. Have a *click* :-)
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 9:55, closed)
Yup, I have one too on the driver's side.
Have done for about 4 years. I don't know if it's the same one because I've changed cars twice.

Judging by the state of the leading-edge of my mirrors after a motorway run, if the spider built a web on the other side, it'd have type 2 diabetes by now and be a right fat fucker.

But I'm quite fond of it.
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 10:17, closed)
earwig
Years ago, i rode my motorcycle to southern france. I got off the ferry at le havre, and noticed an earwig inside the speedometer of my bike, wandering around the dial around the 120mph mark. Then he'd vanish, and turn up on the rev counter. Many times i tried to get the needle of whichever gauge he was on to reach him, buti suspect he'd read a lot of bike mags, as he always seemed to be on a bit of the dial that my athsmatic bike could never reach - i.e. 130 mph or 11000rpm. Got to Toulon, spent a happy week, rode back - and there, in my rev counter once again, was the earwig. Got all the way back to 2shoes towers, unloaded the bike, only to see the 'wig walking across the handlebars, down the forks and off in to the grass.
freeloading cunt. Buy your own holiday.
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 10:37, closed)
Me too!
He lives on the driver side though, and I've not yet named him...
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 11:13, closed)
Nice one m'boy!
Yep, that was a conversation to remember.
I wonder just how many car-owning B3TANs have a Boris?
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 12:22, closed)
Hee hee...

I told you I was going to post it.

I should at this point thank Captain Placid and brother Twisty Cheeky - as it was the discussion last night on our own 'Borises' that prompted this post
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 12:25, closed)
I have one too, in the passenger side
because car-netting is the natural enemy of the common fly.

*clicks*
(, Thu 22 Oct 2009, 13:16, closed)

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