He’s called Dave, and he loves nothing better than an extreme dare. The more extreme the dare, the happier Dave is.

Last year he walked across the M4 just by Junction 7. Thankfully it was 6.30 in the evening and none of the cars were moving very fast. Another time he hung upside down under a Number 19 bus all the way from Holborn to Upper Street.

I don’t often get the nod when Dave’s up to something. He likes to keep his antics a bit underground. Think he fancies himself as the Banksy of the pigeon world.

Yesterday though, I just happened to be there.

Here is on the tracks at Hammersmith Station. Jesus:

Heart stopping stuff. He sat there until the train came, and then flew off at the last minute. Total nutter.

Got me thinking… I’m wondering whether Extreme Dares could be an event for the Pigeon Olympics, like walking across the Thames on lollypop sticks, for example?

Spotted a load of them today in Richmond Park. I was told they had a member’s bar on the go, so I went down to investigate.

No question about it.

Check out the look in the eyes of the one on the door turning away the non-members:

Then I saw a couple more of them appear out of nowhere:

Which was also the moment I decided to observe them from elsewhere.

The idea is, instead of racing beak open and eyes glazed shoving every pigeon in sight out of the way to get the best bit of whatever piece of shit you’ve found, you call out to your fellow pigeons, and share it. Course this is harder to manage when there’s more than a couple in earshot as not everyone gets it and it often ends up with several rings of sharing all standing on top of each other which kinda misses the point and can result in minor injury.

Here’s a great example of how it should be done. I spotted it at the weekend – The Camden Doughnut at its best. The reason for posting it, aside from reminding all you pigeons out there that sharing is the new black, was Albert’s shout of ‘Anyone want to share my doughnut?’ was entirely accurate because it was, in fact, a doughnut. Weirdly, it was also in Camden.

I’m not sure the others got it initially, the sharing thing that is. Dude on the left looked somewhat confused.

“Share? What do you mean by share exactly?”:

Probably just more used to the Scrap and Awe method. Have to say though, Al could have washed beforehand.

One by one, they got it, understandably giving Al a bit of a wide berth:

Frankly, had I joined in, I think he’d have put me off too, and that’s no mean feat when it comes to a doughnut.

By the end, Al’s personal hygiene aside, it was a great example of a sharing ring:

Be good to see more if this in 2012.

Thinking about it, be quite good to see more doughnuts too…

I remember it all started out a bit weird. Some bloke in St James’s Park insisted me and Mart sit on his hand.

Wouldn’t take no for an answer:

All rather uncomfortable, but I decided to put up with it expecting a bit of seed at the very least. Nothing. Nada.

The three of us just stood there looking awkward:

Eventually Mart suggested we should probably be making a move, so we did. All very odd, and kinda set the tone for the rest of the night.

After St James’s, we headed to Piccadilly Circus where we hooked up with Hoxton Elliot and a couple of the boys:

I seem to remember one of them had spotted a red wine spillage somewhere in Clerkenwell, so off we went. From that point onwards, all I have is photos.

Here’s one of them. No idea where this is:

Possibly Soho Square?

Then there’s this one of Elliot passed out in the gutter:

Jesus.

Clearly a good night was had by all, but what is it with red wine and the old memory synapses? No matter how hard I try, there’s nothing in there. Oh well. I’m sure we all had a great time and made total tits of ourselves. No change there then.

Onwards and upwards and 2012 promises to be a top year what with the Pigeon Olympics happening in July. Turns out there’s a proper event being held now organized by pigeons who know what they’re doing, and they’ve asked me, being the only bona fide blogging pigeon in town, to cover it. Exciting stuff. Mart told me he’s keen to enter even though I pointed out he’s not very good at any of the sports on the list (Synchronised Landing, Chip Tossing, Judo, 1m and 2m Sprint to name but a few).

The other thing about 2012, and I only realised this the other day, but I’ve been telling it how it is for the pigeons for London for six years now. Mental. Six whole years, so I’m going to be looking back a bit at how life has changed in London since I started. Quite a lot I reckon. For a start, the seed ban proper hadn’t kicked in yet so we were all feeling a little happier generally. Bird flu hadn’t been invented either so far less of the accusing stares, although that seems to have died down now.

Anyway, Happy New Year everyone.

2012 – Bring it on.

I gave him a matchbox for storage. Far more useful, apart from when he tried to see if the strike still worked and nearly set his toe on fire.

We ended up spending most of the day on the ledge in the end. Quite a quiet one, but all good. Then, on Boxing day, we hit Winter Wonderland. It was mental. So mental in fact that the only pic we managed to get was this one. A mate of Mart’s called Eddy took it.

A moody silhouette of the two of us against the Big Wheel:

Not bad considering Eddy had never used a camera before.

It was way too busy for us to cash in on any leftovers, so we headed back to town. Still, good to have seen it.

Now we’re trying to figure out what to do for New Year’s Eve. Trick is to stay as far away from Trafalgar Square as possible. Way too many out-of-towners for my liking. I know I broke the rule recently at the Carol Concert and quite enjoyed it, but once a month is enough. NYE on the Square normally gets quite messy too. Eddy and Mart want to throw a party. Based on their previous attempts, it could be a disaster. Watch this space.

Yesterday we hit the Christmas Market in Kingston. Despite the pissing rain, it rocked.

We even managed to find a half decent puddle of mulled wine:

Bring it on.

Here’s Alf looking a little worse for wear:

Then Doug, one of the Richmond lot, spotted it. A massive chunk of something.

Not too sure what it was, but there was quite a lot of it, and it tasted sweet as:

Far as tomorrow goes, not sure what’s occurring yet. Mart suggested Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park.

We’ll see.

Every year, round about the 21st of December, pigeons from all over the country get together at Marble Arch to celebrate Christmas with a festive sing-along. To be honest, it’s more just a noise rather than actual singing. The songs include traditional carols like The Holly and The Ivy, and also some of the more recent ones like Walking In The Air. Course we change it to Flying In The Air. Walking in the air? WTF? Why would we do that? Anyway, turns out we’ve been wrong all these years. Top day out, and a right laugh.

This was everyone still turning up:

Quite early on and already hard to get a seat at the front.

This lot made it all the way down from Leicester:

Despite the obvious size issue, a couple of them had half decent voices. Reckon they’re staying at The Arch for the whole of Christmas. Fair play.

Course there’s always the inevitable freak, like Thomas from Cardiff. He only seemed to know either Welsh mining songs or songs by The Pussycat Dolls:

Frankly, not much of a team player.

This is where we ended up. Quite a good spot as it goes:

That’s Doug in the middle looking a little larger these days, not that I’d ever say anything.

Took this just before Mart told the Seagull he’d come to the wrong party. Genius.

This particular one is on Berwick Street just round the corner from where we live.

All you’ve got to do is hang about for a couple of minutes and, sure enough, one will fall:

This is me and Mart on the prowl. Bagged ourselves a Brazil just after it was taken.

Plan for today is a trip to Brighton. The sun’s shining, there’s no wind, and we’ve not done one in ages.

Bring it on.

Now it’s all settled down wind-wise, Me and Mart are off to Kingston for a day out. Tried to persuade Bill to come, but he wasn’t having any of it. Said he’d had a bit of a large night.

He’s not much of a looker at the best of times. Today though, Jesus:

Not seen him look this bad since last summer.

Had to share this too. Just had a right result on the breakfast front.

Check this lot out:

Couple of bits were still warm. Sweet.

Thankfully, Bill wasn’t with us. Not sure his stomach could have handled it.

Well, today was a winner. Outside the McDonalds right next to Shaftsbury Avenue.

Chips flying everywhere:

‘I’m lovin it’. I certainly am!

See. Told you.

Every year, I’m convinced I can see an increase in the number of depressed pigeons soon as British Summer Time ends. Pigeons suffering from lethargy, over-eating, tiredness, poor sex drive etc. All the classic symptoms.

A couple of years back I interviewed a pigeon called Jim. Jim had spent several years as a manic depressive, until he met Janet from the MPB. MPB, Make Pigeons Better, is a charity run out of Camden helping depressed pigeons from all over London. I decided to track them down to see if they agreed that loosing an hour overnight only makes things worse…

I’m glad to say they’re both still together and have already hatched around fifteen to twenty. They weren’t sure of the exact number. Jim hasn’t had an attack for a couple of years and now works with Janet at the MPB as a counselor.

This is a shot taken recently of Jim and Janet with some of their patients on a day trip to the Embankment sign:

That’s Jim and Janet at the top keeping a watchful eye. Apparently, these three have only just come off the high-risk register. Good work.

I asked Janet if she thought the clocks going back had any impact on the number of depressed pigeons in London:

“Absolutely. I think pigeons just find the whole thing quite confusing. One day they’re out happily tucking into dinner. Then they go out at the same time the next day, and it’s dark. I think it really throws pigeons, so those prone to depression are bound to suffer.”

Jim, looking somewhat grayer these days, agreed:

“Yeah. Totally. You can see it everywhere. Soon as it happens, loads of miserable pigeons. Millions of them, especially in King’s Cross. No-one gives a shit we get an hour extra on the ledge in the morning. Only thing that happens is the sun comes up earlier than it’s meant to. Load of old bollocks.”

So, there you have it. Proof from those in the know. You wait. This time next week, just watch out for the number of vacant looking pigeons shuffling about aimlessly through the streets of London. Anyone out there got any suggestions, let me know, and before you say it, we’ve tried staring at street lamps.