Death By Champagne Cork

Oh, it happens.

I shit you not.

Fears.   

Phobias.  

Completely random acts and things scare people.  We swirl all these worries and doubts around our pea-brains, and they manifest into irrational terrors and bizarre anxieties for arbitrary objects or situations.  I find it profusely amusing. 

Why?  I hear you say?

Because… I am a sicko?  Because ... I have a wicked sense of humour?  Because.... I have a incredibly vivid imagination?

No.

FACT :  You’re more likely to get killed by a vending machine that be attacked by a shark?

Odds:  1 in 112 million.  Snack responsibly, Plonkers

FACT :  Ovulating women think bad boys make good dads.

 

These are facts, but I still can’t go to sleep if I know there is a spider in the room.  I’m not exactly sure what I think will happen to me.  I fear that the little Fucker will crawl inside my ear and lay spidettes while I'm sleeping, or spin a web over my face, or even stroll past my Turkey Purse, smile and wave - or worse, pop in for a cuppa and a slice of cake.

Just the thought makes me shiver and freak the fuck out.

However…

FACT :  You’re more likely to die in an asteroid apocalypse than accidentally die of erotic asphyxiation.

Odds: 1 in 12,500

FACT : Falling Coconuts kill 150 every year!

And yet my silly fear of vermin freezes me instantly.  I know in my head it’s ridiculous.  I mean, seriously, I’m probably 100 times bigger than a wee mouse, but yet the thought of that long, rope rat tail and tiny feet scratching through my house nibbling on everything, drives me to drink and possibly hard drugs. 

FACT : You're eight times more likely to be killed by a police officer than by a terrorist attack.

FACT : You’re more likely to die while texting than fireworks exploding in your face.

And yet we fear teeny tiny fleas and lice, suffer from coulrophobia.  We dread and obsess of getting old and being alone and yet we still insist on thinking we’re fine to drink and drive.

Go figure.