The day I scratched my plums

[Jacques]

Lying in bed, scratching me plums, I noticed an annoying tickly itch on my shin. Whipping back the covers, there was this large, scowling house spider crawling up my leg, making a determined effort to hog-tie me and store my still twitching corpse in its evil web.

I jumped out of my pit, threw the eight-legged menace to the floor and tried to give him his just desserts - the discipline of the carpet slipper.

My attempts to stamp on the hairy little bastard were to no avail. It was too good for me, and in a one-sided battle twixt man and beast, the little fucker ran up my leg and made a bee-line for my pods, the one place it knew I couldn't thwack it with footwear.

I was forced to perform a St. Vitus dance, naked in a blind panic, and shoo the thing away from my manhood with a rolled-up magazine, before scooping it up and chucking it out of the window.

All this time, Mrs Jacques was standing on a chair like Tom and Jerry's Mammy Two Shoes screaming "Don't let it near me! Don't let it near me!" Which was nice of her, because it was only after my bits after all.

[Lizard]

Have you tried selling the script to Mike!

[Jacques]

There is a rights problem, the little hairy bastard was playing Wagners 'Ride of the Valkyries' as he made his way towards my pods.

[fudgeflaps]

If he played 'Great Balls of Fire' as he bit your nads, there may have been a good porno Spiderman spin-off there.