Kid you not.
This is her taking the fourth plinth at Trafalgar Square:
“Jane Glaister, the authority’s strategic director for culture, tourism and sport, was one of 2,400 people to be allocated an hour on the 22ft structure as part of sculptor Antony Gormley’s One & Other project.”
It’s been a while, but check this mother out:
That is one hirsute pigeon. Never seen anything like it.
Talk about letting yourself go.
Time for a good waxing methinks.
You don’t say.
Call that art? Jesus.
Cheers for sending it, Damian!
Just been reading back through a load of old posts. Fat Jesus, I’m obsessed with the weather. Embarrassingly so. On and on I wang about too much rain or not enough sun or the wrong shaped wind. I swear, from now on, unless the weather really is doing something out of the ordinary like chucking hail stones the size of chihuahuas, I won’t mention it. At the very least, I’ll mention it less, apart from today which seems to be showing signs of the remnants of summer. Bring it on.
So – to yesterday. After a morning spent hanging out on The Square taking in the tourists, literally, me and Mart decided to wing it to EC1 to see how our pal Phil was getting on – see post below.
Will and Kathleen saw us coming, and rushed to tell us that Phil had invited Sheila, his estranged partner, to join him for a little light conversation. He said he’d been feeling a lot more positive of late thanks to his chats with Will, and was ready to hear Sheila’s side of the story. Sheila, impressed by Phil’s eagerness to ‘sort himself out’, had flown over straight away.
This is what we saw. Oh dear:
Not a lot of communication going on there. The least Phil could have done was scrub himself up a bit. Surely, making an effort with one’s physical appearance is a fundamental given? This was the scene for quite some time with Sheila showing no interest whatsoever.
Then it all went horribly wrong. Phil, quite out of the blue, decided the time was ripe to go in for a nibble:
Error. Sheila recoiled looking shocked and, frankly, a little scared. I would be too if I had that coming at me in the face.
Then, to make matters a whole load worse, he just stared at her chest for ages:
Didn’t say a word, just stared at it with his beak open. Think I even saw a bit of dribble. Unsurprisingly, Sheila decided to call it a day and left.
Phil clearly has a few lessons to learn in the art of making up. Over to you, Will and Kathleen. Don’t envy your job one bit.
Some call it sweet, I call it mildly vomit inducing.
Then again, looking at it there’s not a lot going on in the way of eye contact…
Make-up sex, possibly?
Cheers for sending it, Steve!
Cheers for sending this, Jenny.
Some wood pigeon hurtling towards the onset of morbid obesity thinking he might just give the whole bird on a wire thing a go.
Big shame up.
Remember Will & Kathleen? The pigeon couple suffering from serious marital discourse? The ones who managed to sort themselves out in the end, and in quite a big way..?
I popped over to visit them yesterday to see how things were going. Rather well, as it turns out. Since overcoming the turbulent times of last year, something they seem to think I’m partially responsible for, which is nice, they decided to help other pigeons with similar relationship ‘issues’.
I asked them if they needed any qualifications at all? They seemed to think not.
“You just need to listen really, and nod quite a lot”, said Kathleen.
Anyway, whatever they do, it’s clearly working, or at least the pigeons rocking up on almost a daily basis seemed to think so. Pigeons like Phil.
This is Phil:
Phil has been having relationship ‘issues’ for quite some time. His partner, Sheila, recently suggested they consider a trial separation. Even though he knew it was for the best, this devastated Phil, and he decided to head to Will and Kathleen’s retreat for some advice.
“I just needed time to get my head together. Figure stuff out. Sheila and me, we weren’t really talking any more, not really, and when we did, we might as well have been speaking a different bleedin’ language,” he said.
Will told me that the whole lack of communication thing was a familiar story. I asked him what his approach would be in this particular case. He said he’d probably leave Phil for a day or two. Give him some time to think, and then try to help him see and understand the positive sides of Sheila, as well as accept the negatives.
Not really sure about that myself. Far as I’m concerned, a negative’s a negative no matter how you dress it up, and negatives tend not to be neither pleasant nor, generally speaking, gentle on the ear!
However, Will said, “We all have sides of us we’re not proud of. The art is in understanding them.”
Food for thought.
Anyway, Will & Kathleen ended up asking me if I’d like to volunteer and maybe share some of the listening?
I told them I’d rather suck on my own arse feathers than listen to a bunch of moany pigeons wanging on about their personal life. Helping Will and Kathleen out last year was one thing, doing it over and over again for every other fucker was quite another.
That said, fair play to Will & Kathleen.
Well done, guys.
I’ll be popping back in the next few days to check on Phil’s progress.
Proving, yet again, that chest size has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with one’s ability to pull:
Ever wondered what to do with a dead squirrel? I know- turn it into a lamp. Of course!
Now you too can have your very own squirrel lamp:
Cheers for sending it, Ian!
This was sent to me by Steve.
Bring it on.
I’ve certainly dreamed about exactly this scenario at least four times.
Something this cartoon nicely demonstrates though is that crumb size does matter, especially when aimed at the head.
Crumbs can cause injury, particularly those plucked from the exterior of a crusty french loaf.
Not ever, and certainly don’t write a musical about it. Jesus.
Frankly, it makes me embarrassed to be a pigeon.
Cheers for sending the link, Jon!
These dudes, hanging loose in San Francisco, were sent to me by Emily.
Tell you what, I reckon San Fran is the place to be if this lot are anything to go by:
Check these two out. Clearly not a care in the world:
Nothing better to do than sniff their own arses.
And this one is a particularly nice shot:
It’s also another prime example of a pigeon appreciating art.
Cheers for sending them, Emily!
Here is yet more proof that the pigeon is actually quite bright. Okay, so the one in the clip is perhaps not as bright as some, but he tries. It takes him a while to get it, and the thought process is almost painful.
Good on him though, and not such easy conditions either:
It has long been known that pigeons are into art. Some even consider themselves to be quite the expert, embarrassing though they are. It is true though, some pigeons do get art. Can’t argue with that. Click here for the evidence.
Have to admit, I don’t count myself in that. Certainly never really got the whole Futurism movement.
That said, there is one bit of art I do get, and that’s graffiti. Not the large illegible word type of graffiti, but nice pictures. Pictures in interesting and accessible places where you know what you’re looking at.
Pictures like this:
Turns out they’re by some dude called Jef Aerosol. Rumour has it that Jeff Aerosol is, in fact, a pigeon, which got me thinking… Is Banksy a pigeon? Maybe a flock of pigeons? His stuff is kinda similar…