Right. That’s it. I’m fucking off for a few days. Bank Holiday weekend and all that, not that Bank Holidays mean much to the pigeon… Nowhere sunny, somewhere probably just as rainy as London – Wales. Time to go hang with the Welsh pigeon community. Heading off over the M4 in the morning. First stop Cardiff, only reason being the Mermaid Quay Cardiff Harbour Festival. Welsh Dave went last year and reckons it offers a fine line in decent throwaway, and some of it is undercover which may result in dry bread bits rather than the soggy mess-ups we’ve been getting in London recently.
I looked it up, and this is listed as one of the highlights:
‘Listen to a great nautical, music line-up or enter the best dressed pirate’s competition.’
Mart wet his arse feathers about the pirate’s competition and is sourcing a hat as I type. I, however, am wondering what the fuck a ‘great nautical, musical line-up’ is? Unless I’m much mistaken, music sounds shit underwater and there are no water based creatures that I know of who have mastered the art of either the keyboard or the guitar, never mind been able to pen a decent song. Could be wrong though…
Anyway, thought I’d share this while I was at it. I was searching through my pic library when I found one taken the summer before last. The summer when there was one. The one where the sun shone for at least five consecutive days.
Bring it on:
Note the brown grass. No fucking sign of that this year.
It’s me beating Mart in a 2m sprint. Elliot in the foreground marking the finishing line. Clearly, I won, especially as Mart let his stomach get the better of him and stopped sharp at the crispy bread chunk. Done none of that this year. Not once. We’d even discussed holding a pigeon Olympics in honour of Beijing. All the pigeons over there are at it, apparently. But no, seeing as water based sport isn’t our strong point and the ground is way too muddy for a decent run-up, bollocks to it.
So, it’s off to Wales we go to listen to some fine ‘nautical’ toonz.
Ok – not that I want to state the fucking obvious but, Jesus, the weather over here sucks the big one.
Any of you out there lucky enough to live in a place where the sun shines – basically in any other country apart from here – check this out if you don’t believe me. Here’s what it’s going to be like in London for the next five days:
Oh, and when there’s a small piece of sun poking out like that, it usually means literally no more than a blink’s worth, so make sure you keep your eyes open all day or you might just miss it.
There are two main issues for the pigeon when London is having the shittest summer on record, the first is boredom. Me and Mart have been mainly ledgebound for weeks now playing pointless games like eye-spy. It’s also been quite windy lately which means, even when we do leave the ledge, flying anywhere demanding either distance or height is a total pain in the arse. This results in us staying in and around the Soho area. The biggest excitement of our day yesterday, for example, was finding the better half of an upturned bagel on Compton Street. Kid you not.
The second issue, and I’ve definitely noticed a sharp increase in this, is depression. Apart from it being an almost inevitable conclusion to prolonged periods of boredom, there’s a chemical reason for it too – a lack of fucking sunshine meaning absolutely no intake of Vitamin D.
Here is the all-too familiar stance of a pigeon in the midst of what looks like quite a deep depression:
So, I decided to look up the foods that contain Vitamin D. See if we can’t top it up that way.
Here’s the list.
Sadly, most of these are pretty impossible for the pigeon to find naturally discarded on the street, especially ‘Catfish’, whatever the scary fuck that is. So – any of you out there happen to be munching on a tuna sarni – spare a thought for all the depressed pigeons out there, and leave us some of the fucking tuna.
Seeing as the weather’s gone to shit again and boredom is never a good look for the pigeon, we decided to get a game of Chip Toss going. Not done it for ages. Mart was right up for it seeing as it’s the only game he’s ever been any good at. So we got in touch with Brixton Dell and told him to bring some of his best boyz up. All a bit of a fucking disaster really. Turns out the Brixton posse had been out the night before giving it large in Kennington.
Here’s Brixton Dell trying to focus on the chip with Rod on the right staggering about all over the place totally oblivious to the whole thing.
Chip to your left Rod, you fuck wit:
Dell then decides to go mutter some tactics at him…:
…and Rod promptly throws up.
Elliot steps in and tries to get the game going with a genius pass:
Decided to call it a day shortly after this:
The chip lands at Peckham Mark’s feet. He just stands there staring at it, sniffs it, stuffs it in his beak, and eats it. Fuck’s sake. Pointless, and a lesson for next time. Chip Toss with a bunch of hungover pigeons is no fun whatsoever. Not even slightly.
Clare sent me this. Fucking great pic.
Back by popular demand – here’s one total and utter fat as fuck Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak of the Weeeeeeeeeeek:
Jesus Christ. Takes the serious issue of pigeon obesity to a whole new level.
I’ve seen pigeons do some weird shit in my time, but I reckon this tops the lot. Wandering round Kings Cross, last thing you expect to see is a bunch of pals fashioning necklaces made out of bread? WTF? Clearly lost it. That said, most have in that part of town.
This is Greg and Patricia ‘giving it a go’, Expert Lionel tutoring from the sidelines:
And this is Greg stepping back for a gander at his handy work. I think this was also the point where he asked Patricia to try it on for size, which she blankly refused to do until it was ‘finished’:
And here’s Sally and Mike also ‘giving it a go’:
Frankly, I think Mike might have been more interested in the sort on the other side of the barrier.
Then, just when I thought things couldn’t get any weirder, here’s Cliff sporting one he made earlier out of a piece of salami:
They do evening classes and everything, apparently.