Spider-Horse.

Arachnids who favour Krautrock , you are cordially invited to check out the shit show that is being presided over by the so called people in charge, or maybe the people who are, so called, in charge. We sit in our chairs, rather than on a wall or the floor waiting to be scooped up in a pint glass and thrown outside.

We, like you, our strange footed overlords listen to music, sometimes Krautrock, sometimes the Carpenters and at this moment Druqs by the newly realised Covid denier or along those lines, Former inventor of glitch and peculiar tenko, Mr Aphex Twin. It’s 1 man not 2 men and neither is he related, just let his music stand the test of time, which is why i’m listening to this album right now. Can you believe I no longer have the really inconveniently shaped record sleeve, possibly because it wouldn’t fit on the shelves and now sells for millions, well Mr Aphex, I’m not playing your games and will be ignoring your proclamations for now as this music does stand the test of time, so its not forgiven but hidden in the wine cellar, where i’ll assume it to be a pissed friend who really didn’t know what he was talking about at the time, we’ve all made mistakes; loads in my case. “So come on you cunts lets have some Aphex Acid” (not my words)

In the interim let me tell you about my day, or at least a small part of it, a significant part none the less. I had to complete an inspection of a large field and its boundaries for some reason today, the why’s and wherefores aren’t important, its for me to know and why the hell should you care? After all, the insects and arachnids will soon inherit the earth and feast upon our carcasses whilst spinning the records we leave behind in a topsy turvy world of webs and antennae. The vinyl will keep while you evolve into enormous horse eating abominations. Which neatly brings me to my story.

I arrived at this massive field, I saw horses were in the field, but they were at the top of the field eating grass and shining in the low autumnal sun, which made taking photographs a tall order, i’ve a report to write but it’ll keep, its for the church and I don’t suppose they’ll worry, unless of course they’ve abused horses in the past. So I walked up towards the field corner, taking non descriptive photos of hedges and grass, incidentally i’ve the world’s most boring camera roll on my work phone, hedges and fences I have loved, momentarily. Up at the top the horse clocked me and started walking, I took more photos, i’m a distance from the gate and while i’m not fat, i’m not match fit regards running but not to worry they’re walking. I take another shot or two, and they’re running down the hill manes billowing in the wind, muscles rippling and teeth gnashing like massive hell hounds, no sound aside from the thump thump of hoof on ground. Shit! Terrified I turned and pegged it, like a running Dad, actually a Running Dad, hi-viz streaming behind me in the wind, paperwork crumpled in my hand and tablet swinging round my neck. I reach the gate and wish I could report i vaulted it, but ungracefully clambered over instruments and pens clattering to the floor on the hardstanding next to the main road where a badger lies breathless, literally with no breath on the side of the road, the size of a Labrador. It’s happening the macro evolution of mammals is upon us. But they’ll get too big to avoid the cars driven by Krautrock wasps and soon the Mammalian era will be over and insects will blah blah blah, evil laugh etc…

I escaped the evil horses, sized them up on the opposite side of the gate, with their lack of opposable thumbs and stroked their noses which were like velvet.

And that’s how I survived spider.

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