2004-06-25 - 1:58 p.m.

What the hell is this?

Forgive the poor focus. That�s down to me shaking with fear as the mutant freak lined me up for lunch. To give you a sense of scale, one of its antennae is the length of my entire body.

All right. It�s an inch long and it�s in my bath. But it�s still ungodly. The legs and antlers are bad enough, but what in the name of Bastian Schweinsteiger is coming out of its arse? It seems to have been issued with some kind of sword.

Interlude: I�m sure all you swampdwellers and three-fingered mountain men are going to tell me y�all eat critters ten times that size fer brikfast. Literally. But in the leafy and temperate burbs on this side of the pond, it's simply not done. We�re not used to seeing any of God�s works stranger than a one-eared dog or a horse that�s on the slightly small side.

My bathroom seems to be a meeting place for the unloved genetic errata of the insect world. Weird translucent green things, little black things, educationally sub-normal spiders. If I make the mistake of leaving the light on an a summer�s evening, I�m effectively issuing an open invitation to these tiny black shitheads to come in, pull up a beanbag and chill. It�s the classic horror reveal. Two or three of these gits flit around in my peripheral vision, so I slowly transfer my gaze to the ceiling, to be confronted with a swarm of them hanging out in the corner, ready to swoop down, eat out my eyes and shit in the holes. Or something. It�s �Sect Expo �04 up there. If I look closely enough I can see their tiny laminates. Sometimes they leave the brochure lying about. SEE MOUSEMILK�S LIST OF THE DAY!

I see a lot of spider action in this flat. I�ll happily co-habit with them in the light. I go about my business, they go about theirs. As long as they do their share of the washing up and make no long-distance phone calls, it�s all too cool for school. But I really don�t like �em in the bedroom. It�s the dark. They can be over at the far side of the room, but as soon as the light goes off I know with some degree of certainty they�ll triple in size, crawl over my face and lay eggs in my brain.

Still, countering the scourge of the spiders is this idiot:

She thoughfully indicates when she�s guzzled a spider or a fly by puking the whole sorry mess up again overnight. It's pathetic. Make no mistake about what is being protected from what by the glass in this picture.

Most cats hone their hunting instincts by tackling a pigeon or a rat or a gazelle. This mong can�t even keep half a moth down. Really, there�s no better way to inject some vim into my morning than to be confronted with a single insect wing or leg served on a bed of semi-digested cat fud. You know, I might inject some Vim into the cat. That way the puke�ll be self-cleaning.

MOUSEMILK'S LIST OF THE DAY!

Today�s Seminars at 'sect Expo '04:

1.Flying in Pairs Really Quickly Round a Light Bulb � a 21st Century Perspective

2.Which Way Now for Basing A Life Cycle Round Something Else�s Shit?

3.Changes to Infestation Law � Are you Ready?

4. New Directions in Repeatedly Hitting the Glass Despite the Fact That Instead of Killing you He�s Generously Opened the Fucking Window as Far as it�ll Go, You Annoying Twat

Canapes 11am, Plughole Caf�

Profilage - Previosity - Nextitude