Pigeon Apprecation Day – The Fallout
For those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you’ll have gathered that yesterday was not a good day. Every pigeon in London was partying till the early hours in honour of Pigeon Appreciation Day on Wednesday, me included. What started out with a puddle of beer on The Square ended up at Battersea Power Station and a tin of something called ‘Tennants Super’. Jesus Christ. Twatted.
Woke up under a bin lid. Could hardly string a sentence. Those of us who could fly made it to Trafalgar Square in search of something to eat. It seemed like the only thing to do.
Found a cup cake. Result:
Not much to go round but better than nothing.
All Tom could manage was a bit of apple:
Needless to say it didn’t stay down for long.
Mart was so fucked he stayed where he was, under a piece of newspaper. By the afternoon I’d started to feel a bit better, but then the pissing rain came. Just when we thought summer might be back, no chance.
Found this lot from Camden eating some sick under a tree in Holborn. Reckoned it was all they could find:
Anyway, onwards and upwards. That’s it for another year, thank fuck.
Now it’s back to the London Pigeon Olympics where word is the northern teams are arriving next week.