Six-Legged Death Machines

Any normal child will have had hours of fun torturing Daddies Longlegs, the most common way being the act of trapping one of the insect’s legs under the thumb or forefinger until the snared beast flew off, leaving its leg behind in a display of self-preservation not unlike that of the hard-as-nails guy who hacked his own arm off after getting trapped whilst out rock climbing.

This last couple of days I have been playing the flâneur around the local estates, during which time I seen more Daddies Longlegs than in the rest of my short life. In a kilometre-long stretch, every single house has literally hundreds of the buggers stuck to its walls and windows.

They say nothing. But they watch. And wait.

This is the start of something big. Retribution, maybe.

I say we get our retaliation first. Meet me on the green at six. Bring your own petrol bombs.

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September 2006
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