A Pigeon That Looks Like…
So fast, he blurs himself.
Dedicated to my pal Murray who is winging it down at Wimbledon right now, which is a shame seeing as it looks like it’s about to piss it down.
A Pigeon That Looks Like…
Chris Martin after getting a right tasty ‘Step forward all those of you with an award, not so fast Coldplay’ at the BRITs last night.
Not surprised. What little I know about music, and that isn’t very much, tells me Coldplay really aren’t very good.
In fact, they’re that bad, they can’t even give it away. Jesus.
Two Pigeons That Look Like…
Jonathan Ross (left) and Russell Brand:
Jonathan: “Told you to hang up.”
Russell: “No you didn’t.
A Pigeon That Looks Like…
Russell: “I say, Pretty Lady, won’t you accompany me forthwith to my feathery bedchamber and lie with me a while?”
Pretty Lady: “Not right now, thanks.”
Russell: “But, Pretty Lady, please simply view my extended chest of plenty and imagine what it might feel like to touch it?”
Pretty Lady: “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not…”
Russell: “Pretty Lady, oh how I admire your strength of will in resisting such powerful temptation and, in my heart, I wish there were more like you able to fight their fiery desires…. That’s it, let me chase you…”
Pretty Lady: “Look, let’s get one thing straight – I am not remotely tempted, nor am I even the slightest bit attracted to you. In fact, I’d go as far as to say you repulse me. Now fuck off and leave me alone.”
Russell: “Ok all you lovely ladies out there, here I am, and I’m all yours…
…Ladies…? Anyone…?”
Two Pigeons Who Look Like…
You guessed it:
Ken, stressed to fuck as he rightly should be and, of course:
Spot on this one I reckon. It’s actually a pal called Mike who was a little concerned when I asked if I could use his image in case people thought he might be gay, which he isn’t. He said I could only use it if I stated clearly in the text that ‘he loves the hole’.
So – tomorrow’s the big day. No more comms from Boris, a generic email from Bri, and the usual spam from Ken. It’d better not be Ken or I’m going into hiding to bury my beak in the carpet of a disused local till I throw up.
All you Londoners out there, it’s up to you. You decide.
Ken Brian
…or Boris.
The fate of the London pigeon is in your hands.
