Mr Psmith's biggest tarantula, Shelob, molted last week. He asked if I would kindly allow him to pose it on my face. In a moment of insanity (or possibly due to the three glasses of wine I had had), I said yes.
(click to embiggen...as if that f**ker needs to be any bigger...)

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I can tell from your body language that you were terrified: hand over the neck, protecting the carotid artery is a classic "give". As is the clenched "smile". Seriously -- codpiece.
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