99 million year erection — there has to be a limit to arousal, right?

In what is now Burma, some 99 million years ago, a harvestman named Halitherses Grimaldii (catchy name) got a little hot under the collar and hasn’t cooled down since.

The below picture is not a picture of the horny harvestman but his cousin.


As you can see, a harvestman isn’t some strapping hunk in a field but some spider-looking thing that has a penis. In fact, it’s an arachnid and as much a spider as a butterfly (an insect) is an ant. The main difference between spiders and harvestmen is the schlong dangling between his legs. With that said, there is every chance that the above picture is a female. In that case, her vagina is by her mouth. [Note to self: DO NOT Google ‘spider vagina’ again. Too much. Although, if you ever do have a spider in your vagina, get a cat. For the cat, a dog. For the dog, a goat. For the goat, a cow. For the cow, a horse. Apparently, works (???)] Whether for the female having sex in her face counts as luuuuurve I suppose is down to preference. And exactly from where she gives birth I thought it best not to enquire, especially after my attempts to confirm spider vagina locations got waylaid.

I can’t help but feel I’ve digressed.

Where was I?

Mr H. Grimaldii.

Horny harvestman.


Some 99 million years ago.

Ah, yes.

Unfortunately for Mr Grimaldii, he was out-oozed by the weeping ooze of the tree he was on, and he got preserved in amber in full salute.


Whether he came to finish is open to debate (that fish thing at the end isn’t sperm but the end. It seems harvestmen have a bellend and then a tickly bit).

It is unlikely his death was pleasant, though. I imagine it akin to drowning in golden syrup. Hardening syrup. There’s irony here, I’m sure.

Of the female, well, she may have not been there at all.

Mr Grimaldii is alone in the amber, and the female either scarpered quicker, got preserved in another bit of amber that hasn’t been found yet, or wasn’t there to begin with.

It is possible that he had one of those inopportune erections; you know the kind when you’re minding your own business.

Or, it’s possible, in his struggle with the tree resin, his shooting blood pressure got him hard. Similar to a hanged-man’s hard-on, I guess. Another of Death’s perversions.

Either way, he died like this an awfully long time ago.

(His penis is half his body length, by the way. It’s little wonder he has long legs or it would’ve dragged along the floor.)

Tomos James