Boris is a great name, don't you think?

There are some great names out there which I don't think get enough credit.

Wilbur. Horrace. Bertha. Edwina. Phyllis. Archibald. Winifred. Boris.

Take Boris for example. Boris is a great name, don't you think? It's so simple, so short, and when you whisper it it leaves a delicate popping sound on your lips like a bubble bursting.

Now here's the thing.

Whenever I see a spider, I name him Boris.

The name Boris actually means 'wolf', 'short', or 'snow leopard'. I think naming a spider not only after the Mayor of London (he slightly resembles a snow leopard, doesn't he?) but using a name that means something that is small and solitary is quite apt.

Boris the snow leopard

In my head there is only one spider in the world, called Boris, and he follows me around.

This may seem a bit strange, but for some reason it makes dealing with spiders a lot easier. I'm not scared of spiders - if I had to name my top 5 fears I doubt spiders would be in there. Heights, deep water, being forgotten, burning alive - they're all up there, but not spiders.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I love them either. When you see the big ones with the fat hairy bodies who just sit watching you, gently moving all eight legs, making you scared that at any given moment it could pounce five feet across the room into your lap and trail it's web around your legs - that thought has definitely come across my mind on more than one occasion, but I still wouldn't say I'm scared of them. There are plenty of other non-scary things with hairy legs that I wouldn't particularly like pouncing on me from me across the room; my neighbour's cat, for instance, or Susan Boyle.

SuBo - almost as scary as a spider

Spiders are, whether we like it or not, a big part of our lives. They like to hide in almost everything we humans make. Cars, houses, sheds, the box of Christmas decorations in the loft. We can't escape them. I can proudly say I've never killed a spider (not to my knowledge, anyway, though I'm sure I've probably accidentally sat on one at one point in my life). I think I get it from my mum. She has enormous respect for living creatures, something so selfless which I've always admired in her and been brought up with. If there's something which needs rescuing or moving to a plantpot, she will, whether it be a spider, a caterpillar, a moth, or a worm. Mother by day, creepy-crawly saviour by night.

So, even though I don't particularly like spiders, I don't see why they deserve to die. Why should something have it's life ended just because 'it has too many legs', or 'it looks horrible'. It didn't ask to be born a spider, just like we didn't ask to be fortunate enough to be born humans - it just happened. So I call every spider I see Boris to make them that little bit easier to deal with.

I know you're not convinced, but let me show you what I mean.

You're at a dinner party with friends. It's all going swimmingly well, until someone sees a small black shadow creep across the floor.
'Oh my god, nobody move! I think there's a spider under the table!'
'Ahhh where did it go? I fucking hate spiders!'
'Quick, someone kill it!'
'Oh don't worry guys, it's just Boris. He's probably just feeling a bit lonely. Let me go get a glass and some paper.'
'NO, JUST KILL ITTTTTTTTTT!!'

Suddenly, by naming it, you feel rather sorry for him. It almost gives him a personality, somehow making him (and for some reason I'm convinced every spider I see is male) far less terrifying.

And I realise there are lots of different kinds of spiders in the world. But to me, they're all the same one. When I see a harvester spider just hanging out in the corner of a room, I think to myself 'Oh Boris has lost a lot of weight recently, I hope he's okay'. When I see a small, fat spider in a tree I think 'Oh wow, Boris is sure feeling adventurous lately'. And when I see a little spider crawling inside my flat, I think 'Oh Boris, you must be feeling down, you're all hunched up and small today. But, you do realise you are indoors. And all the windows are closed. And the only thing going to walk through your web is my face...right?'

Boris is currently living in my car at the moment. He scared me when I saw him last week, because I hadn't realised he'd trekked all the way from my flat to my car. Not only that, but he only decided to show himself by walking across the sun visor when I was halfway on my way to work.

I must admit, Boris did freak me out a bit.

It's like getting a bee stuck in your car while driving. I wanted to bat Boris away, to tell him to stop distracting me while driving, but at the same time I didn't want him and all eight legs falling on my face, or worse, dropping onto my dress and for me to flail my arms about at the fact that there was a spider crawling up my legs and I could do sod all about it.

I keep opening the window for Boris, trying to coax him outside. He's never tempted though. He just crawls into one of those holes that I never knew existed in my car, and hides there until the next day when he makes another appearance at the most inconvenient time. He must be going through his adolescent years.

So next time you see a spider crawling in the bath, or in front of the garden shed, why not try calling him Boris? Or start calling wasps Wilbur. Or snakes Archibald. The whole country filled with terrifying small creatures with the most hilarious, vintage names. It's quite the thought, isn't it?

Oh Archibald, you so silly.