Despite my endless letters of complaint and my propensity to swear, outrageously, at things that annoy me, I'd like to think of myself as a genuinely caring person - a good Christian, and all that.

However, there comes a point when you let your guard down. It's like recycling. 99.9% of the time I recycle and I'm completely pro recycling. And then sometimes, I don't bother to walk (the, what, extra meter) to the recycling bin and I throw something recyclable in the normal rubbish bin. Guilt kicks in, and invariably I'll pick the said rubbish from one bin and throw it into the other.

This morning, there was a spider in my bath. One of those small-bodied, long-legged affairs. I considered pottering to find a glass, rescuing the creature and popping it outside. But I was running tight on time, couldn't be bothered and so grabbed some toilet roll, pinched the said spider and popped it in the bin. Yes, I know, I'm cruel and heartless and there are small children crying now (not to mention Ollie).

But all is not lost. As I stepped out of the shower, Incy Wincy had climbed out of the bin and was some way up the wall. Clearly I hadn't employed a sufficient degree of "crushing" to the poor beast and it survived the adversity of Tesco's bog-standard recycled paper. So, wrapped in a towel I obtain a glass from my kitchen, capture Houdini and release him / her in the pot of geraniums on my balcony.

I should be pleased. By 8am I'd already done one good turn and rescued one of God's Creatures. But instead, no, the damn thing just made me feel guilty for not rescuing it in the first place.

There's only one moral. We really should be good in this life, otherwise someone – or something – will always catch us out.