Total and utter genius, and what every pigeon aspires to.

Cheers for sending it, Charlie and everyone!

So far, the large pigeon has eluded me. Fuck knows how. Word is it’s now on Neal Street, so gonna try to get me some giant plastic pigeon action tomorrow if it kills me, which hopefully it won’t.

In the meantime, check this out. Sent to me by Snowflake. Cheers, Snowflake.

I always thought Owls were pretty grumpy as a rule. Met one once on a mini-break in Southampton who was grumpy to the point of being positively rude.

These pics only go to prove I am right. Owls are, without doubt, the moodiest of birds. This dude was rescued by a woman in America after being hit by a car, and this was his reaction:

Jesus. Talk about ungrateful.

For the full story and more pics, click here.

Fat Jesus:

One day, some dude called Panasonic decided to build a giant pigeon, and bring it to London. WTF?

The weird part is, it’s to advertise some new lightweight handy cam. Eh? Reckon they might have fucked up a bit on the market research. Far as I know, me aside, there really aren’t that many pigeons into the cam. Oh well. I won’t tell them if you don’t.

For more pics and the full story, click here.

Gonna hunt it down tomorrow. Word on the street is it’s bound for Covent Garden. Watch this space.

Okay – clearly the freakishly warm weather has come to an end. Have to say, any desires I have ever had to go to India have been put right out of my head. Who ever heard of anywhere with a summer that only lasts a week? Oh yeah – London.

I should have started by apologising for the distinct lack of posts. This has been due to the fact that nothing has been happening in my life of late. Nothing whatsoever. So much so, on Saturday, I complained to Mart that we never did anything anymore, so he suggested a day trip to Richmond. Lovely place, despite the geese. I was right up for it, till we got going.

Leaving town was okay, but soon as we headed over Kew Gardens – Jesus. Never dealt with so much wind. Mental. Blowing about all over the place. Even took cover for a while in the Pagoda. Finally, we get to the river, and it’s even windier. Windy as hell. Bumped into a few locals who said that this level of wind was, in fact, quite unusual for this part of town.

Talk about ruffling the feathers:

And this is me. Couldn’t even do the straight line:

Then, things got a whole lot worse.

One big gust, and Trevor was almost on his way to North Sheen:

They promised me Richmond wasn’t always that windy.

I’m not so sure.

Loads of you sent me this.

Fucking funny. Pissed myself:

Why didn’t I think of doing that?

Cheers everyone.

Check him out. This dude is the absolute nuts:

Mondays suck as a rule. Don’t know why, they just do. Tuesdays are okay, it’s just Mondays. Today, however, was different. It didn’t suck at all. In fact, quite the opposite. Apart from anything else, I managed to catch a bit of random sunshine. Totally random. Didn’t see it coming. One minute, cloudy. The next, sunshine everywhere.

Such was my lightness of mood, I even got to squeeze in a game of WTF.

Chucked the challenge to a few pals down Charlotte Street way. Spotted a slice of green, went “What the fuck?”, and they fell for it.

Couldn’t get in there fast enough:

Genius.

The one at the front was first. Sunk his beak right in only to find it was a slice of rank lime. Probably been there since Friday.

That’s him on the left half an hour later, still in recovery:

Eventually, he turned to the tomato for comfort:

It took another half an hour for him to see the funny side.

Then, just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, I spotted this picture of pigeon perfection:

Went over to talk to her. Apologised for interrupting her day, and told her she looked beautiful sitting there covered in sun.

She said her name was Violet and she lived in Kensington, which didn’t surprise me judging by the quality of the plumage.

I asked her if she came here often. She said she didn’t. Then I asked her if she fancied tripping the light fantastic with me sometime? She said she didn’t know what on earth I was on about, and flew off.

It was only afterwards that I realised I had conducted the entire conversation with a large bagel crumb stuck to my lower beak. Class.

Another notch on the door of dating disasters. Oh well.

Onwards and upwards and a good day nonetheless.

Hanging out in Leicester Square today grabbing a spot of bread in the sunshine with Ed and the boys:

When suddenly, out of the blue, up comes this cheeky fuck, and nicks a piece:

Never seen a cheeky fuck like it.

Needless to say, we set off in pursuit:

Which proved both pointless, and knackering:

Totally got away with it.

So we all stood around looking somewhat sheepish picking at the leftovers and pretending like it never happened:

Well embarrassing.

Clearly an out of towner. Probably from somewhere like Croydon.

Bet he’ll be back tomorrow with a flock of mates…

It’s alright tho, coz he was quite small. Tiny, in fact.

Saying that, I don’t want to presume all his mates are going to be equally as small, so I’ll probably hang somewhere else.

Any pigeons out there thinking of Spa-ing it in the morning, don’t.

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

Momentarily breaking away from the squirrels…

Out and about the other day, I found myself suddenly attracted to a rather tasty lovely sunning herself on a statue near Hyde Park Corner. Stunning.

Thought I saw her take a look. Figured I was right in there, so Mart dared me to to make a move.

Oh dear.

Big mistake.

Here she is giving me what I thought was ‘the coy eye’:

Totally convinced, this was when Mart told me to go for it.

Casual landing, cleared the throat, and shuffled around a bit:

Thought I’d start with the basics.

Asked her what her name was. Nothing. So, I tried again. Nothing. Then, she looks round, and what do I do? Pretend I wasn’t looking.

Twat:

What I did next, however, was even worse.

I only went and puffed myself up to give me a bit of extra bulk.

Still nothing, despite the puffing:

Shame up. Not remotely interested, so I let it all go. The whole lot.

Then, what does she do? Turns around just at that exact moment. Jesus.

Yet again, I look away, pretend nothing is going on, and that I’m just a casual bystander admiring the view:

Total fucking mess up.

Flew off just after this was taken. Mart was pissing himself. I wasn’t.

Anyone out there got any advice on successful pulling, let me know.

Okay – I’m going to stop going on about Winston. No more Winston for a while. Right out of my head he goes. Nowhere to be seen. I’m also going to stop thinking about becoming a racer, coz that sure as shit isn’t going to happen. Fitness levels aside, I really can’t be arsed.

So, onwards and upwards and Winston free, had a top weekend in the sunshine. Better late than never, and a nice surprise. Decided to make the most of the sudden hotness and hit the London Pigeon Spa in Leicester Square. Not been there in ages.

All went really well. Loads turned up. Too many in the end as it goes. Great at first tho.

Check out Edd. Can’t believe Edd was there again.

Here he is giving himself a right ducking.

First, a dip of the beak the test the temperature:

Go on, Edd. Whole head. Whole fucking head. Dare you:

Get in there, pal!:

And fuck me, did he. Right in. Totally over his head. Well impressive.

Here he is coming out:

Soaked for hours he was.  Bernie on the right as nonplussed as always.

I only ever paddle, really. Not a big fan of getting dry.

Top day all round, till Simon pushed Mart in.

Pissed myself:

Straight in beak first.

Mart wasn’t amused, not even slightly:

Go as far as to say, he lost it a bit.

We all laughed about it later tho, so it was all good.

And Simon even did a full body to apologise:

Fair play.

There’s loads more from the London Pigeon Spa, but I’ll save them till tomorrow.

Here’s to hoping the sun comes out again soon.

Remember Winston? The South African pigeon who flew faster than broadband? The one I’ve been trying to bag an interview with? Well – I did, and here it is. A Pigeon Blog exclusive.

What an total dude, and an inspiration to us all:

Why 4BG? Why not 2?

Life is about setting lofty goals. On a SD card the weight would be the same if it was 2 or 4 gig. I really wanted to go all out.

How did you carry it, and was it heavy?

Well, it was strapped to my leg using industrial strength insulation tape. I find the red one best for this sort of thing. Heavy, no not really. It did however change my profile a touch, and I lost a bit of streamlining.

How knackered were you, really?

It was actually a short flight, little training run actually. I did a much longer race the weekend after.

Did you fly all the way…?

No. I stopped on the way to see a lady friend for some seed, you know, and had a small nap in some trees while some hawks were about over Liberty Mall area. Then there was the rush back The Unlimited’s offices, which was in a car.

How long did you train for, and what did you have to do?

I have been training for a few weeks now, small training flights, a bit of gym work, and then mainly avoidance techniques. I am trained by an ex-Ghurkha half ninja and patisserie chef named Steve.

How do you feel now?

Nothing really to report.

Do you worry about your weight?

Only on race day, other wise I was blessed with an amazing metabolism.

What do you eat?

Seeds, the occasional McFlurry, and I do have a weakness for a pint after a long days flying.

How much sleep do you need?

As much as the next bird. I get up early and tuck in with the rest of the coop. I get about 8 hours per day.

Have you received any calls from Telkom’s advertising department?

No, they’ve not been in touch, bar race day when they tried to and couldn’t because our lines were down, which is exactly what we were pointing out!

Would you consider coming to the UK and taking on BT?

Yes, I am open to all challenges, but there would have to be some acclimatisation and training time.

Winston, weighing up the competition before the race.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, not so much as a tweet from BT.

Cheers to Mark at Unlimited for sorting the interview. Nice one.

Having a cold when you’re a pigeon is an absolute fucking nightmare. A clogged up beak is not pleasant. Not even slightly, and it’s everywhere these days.

Here’s a pal of Mart’s, called Ed.

Streaming he was:

Coughing his guts up. Couldn’t understand a word he said.

Still, now bird flu’s a thing of the past, who gives a shit?