Check him out:

Is it a woodie? Is it an urban? Fuck knows. Or is it in fact made out of plastic? The mate who sent it said he saw it fly, but surely a pigeon that big is defying gravity on every level? Pity whatever it is flying straight for its beak. Any minute now its massive tongue will lick it out of existence like a lollipop. What’s going on out there in the countryside? Maybe it’s coz the air’s better? Or maybe it’s the fertilizer? Whatever it is, it’s clearly working well. I just hope this is a freak one off and not a sign of things to come…

On a more positive note, I got sent this story from Tom from world without sound.

As part of Deaf Awareness Week last week, the RNID organised a gathering in Trafalgar Square, and they only went and chose a pigeon to represent the cause:

Rock on. Quite like the cloak look too. Could catch on…

Maybe not.

Only kidding, Tom. You guys rock for getting a pigeon that size onto the square.

Bring it on

Cheers for sending it to me.

It’s pigeons like this who give us lot a bad name.

You know how I mentioned how me and Mart cleaned up after ourselves the other morning - see post below - well here’s a pigeon who clearly has absolutely no fucking regard whatsoever for domestic hygiene:

I don’t get it. Why would anyone want to live on a pile of their own shit? There he is with a lovely colourful backdrop perched on a hard-to-come-by lamppost all carpeted in crusty turd.

It’s got to be a right turn off when he pulls.

“Welcome to chez moi. Make yourself at home. Sorry the place is a bit of a mess.”

Watch out as you pick your way through the excrement minefield more like. Saying that, judging by the size of him he probably doesn’t get them back to his that often, so maybe he’s just stopped caring?

All it takes is a bit of peck and wipe. Really not that hard. Lazy fuck.

The fallout of London getting a new boss was large. Every pigeon in town was right up for it in a big way. Have to say though, we were all a tad disappointed with his opening gambit telling us what he was planning to do next, and not a single mention of the pigeon. Nada. He talked it up big time about ‘uniting communities’ without even the smallest nod to one of London’s largest - the fucking pigeon community.

If you’re gonna deal in diversity, BJ, get it right. We pigeons are counting on you to make difference. Just sack the hawk and re-instate the right to graze on Trafalgar Square. That’ll do for starters. Saying that, I’ll let him off for now seeing as his head was probably banging just as loud as mine was. Love it that he gave up the booze during the campaign just in case he made a tit of himself. Hilarious. Bet he was downing them like a parched gazelle the other night though.

In the meantime, I got a nice note from Brian Paddick saying ‘thanks for the support’. This is how it ended:

“Apparently the best thing to do when you get thrown by a horse is get back in the saddle as soon as possible, although I wouldn’t know one end of a horse from another!

Thanks again everyone.

With every best wishes,

Brian”

Bit weird, but there ya go. Probably a good thing he never got to be mayor if he’s not sure whether he can tell the difference between an arse and a mouth, especially on a horse. An eel maybe, but a horse?

Wonder what he’s gonna do next… Maybe he’ll go back to being a Policeman? Probably best not one of the ones who rides a horse, for the horse’s sake.

As for Ken, all he could do was go shopping. Hasn’t even got his shit together to update his homepage.

Anyway, back to the night to end all nights. The venue was already sorted before the result came out, just in case. No need for Derelict London this time, I’d found my own. Check it out.

It may look like your ordinary everyday boarded up derelict building:

But, no. Take a closer look:

Bang on. A neat and tidy pigeon sized window hole. Ok, so you’ve got to go gently with the wings getting in, but once you’re in, it’s fucking massive. A keen eye is needed to spot this kind of opportunity. Thankfully, I had one the other day.

As expected we managed to find some inappropriate leftovers knocking about with just enough left inside to stir up a nice little buzz, and we were off. Had to turn some away in the end when it started to get a bit full and out of control. Sweating my arse off I was.

We poured out at dawn with the well bad munchies and hit Upper Street, where we chanced upon this:

Perfect.

I think the fact were were still pissed up meant we forgot this particular piece of pizza was in the middle of the road. Jesus. Couple of us came damn close to joining it in its flatness. Apologies for the picture quality. Someone else took it. I was laughing too much at Mart who was asking a nearby traffic light if it wanted to dance.

Then, with a belly full of sweetcorn, a load of us went down to the river and hung out. Even ‘Oh-is-that-the-time Doug’ stuck around managing to muster up a fine early morning rendition of Boris’s acceptance speech:

“I say, Ken old chap, why don’t you fuck off? I’m mayor now and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Listen up London, coz I’m The Daddy! Do you hear me? You’re mine. All mine!”

Totally pissed ourselves. Not laughed like that for fucking ages. It was nice too coz I was out with old mates and none of the so-called new ones, which meant I’d had an ‘inappropriate mauling’ free night.

Yesterday was a write off. Mart and me hit the ledge around lunchtime, and stayed there. Didn’t even manage to shove off to shit, which meant this morning was mainly spent cleaning. Worth it though. So now I’m back at ‘L’s and all is good in the world, or a bit better at least.

So, that’s it - Boris for Mayor.

No more of this - see post below:

and more of this:

Instead of burying my head in the carpet of despair I’ll be out there celebrating with the rest of them.

I just hope you put your money where your mouth is…

Bring on the working together to make life a whole lot better for the pigeons of London.

You guessed it:

Ken, stressed to fuck as he rightly should be and, of course:

Brian Paddick.

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.

Just pitched up for a spot of late night posting at ‘L’s, and found this in my inbox. Only a proper response from THE Brian Paddick - see post below.

The ‘Lib Dem’ only goes and replies with the personal touch. Back of the nest.

“Dear Brian

Thank you for this e-mail. I would want to see them humanely removed from the square, rather than withdrawing all feed. There must be another way.

Best Wishes,

Brian Paddick”

Nice. Like the sound of where he’s coming from too. Reckon ‘humane’ rocks as a concept, although not sure about being ‘removed’ from the Square, food or no food. Where would we go? Surely it would be back to square one? Anyways, he got back to me, and that’s what counts.

Nice one, Brian, and it’s not often I get to say that.

Oh - and while I’m at it, and before ‘L’ chucks me out - here’s what I got from Ken today:

“Dear Brian,

There are two days to go until the election, and I need your support to win.

Across the city, thousands of volunteers are delivering a million postcards to voters. They set out the stakes in this election: this is not a joke, it’s about serious issues that will decide the future of London…”

Blah blah fucking blah, and still no mention of the pigeon. Jesus.

Right - with only three days left till London decides who’s in the driving seat, I was beginning to wonder whether either of them actually gave a shit about the pigeon’s vote. Clearly not enough to respond to the emails I sent them over a week ago.

First I’d mailed Ken and asked him if his anti-pigeon stance was likely to change in any way.

This, and several others just like it, is what I got back:

“Dear Brian,”

Ken - for starters, when an email has clearly gone to the whole of London, the personal touch means jack shit.

“Boris Johnson tells good jokes on TV, but there’d be nothing funny about putting him in charge of a £39 billion transport budget and watching our bus, underground, and train improvement plans fall apart. With just three days to go before the election, we have to remind Londoners that the job of London Mayor is no joking matter. That’s why we’ve launched a new billboard today to do just that. We need your help to spread this message to as many Londoners as possible.”

Yeah right. As if. You total twat. Where’s the response to my question?

“Our campaign is giving out postcards and leaflets all over the city, reminding people what’s at stake in this election. We also have volunteers making phone calls to thousands of London voters, reminding them how important it is to vote in this election.”

Would have happily got a load of pals dropping leaflets all over the place. All you had to do was answer one simple question: pigeons - do they stay or do they go?

“Don’t let Boris Johnson have the last laugh on Thursday. Please sign up to spend an hour or two helping our campaign this week. The election is just four days away…”

First it’s three days, then it’s four - make up your mind, you nonce.

“…and since the race is still neck-and-neck, we’ll need as many people to show up to the polls as possible to beat Boris.Thank you for helping us get out the vote.

Ken Livingstone”

That was it. No reference to pigeons. None whatsoever. Not even a ‘thanks for your email, Brian’.

Fucking rude if you ask me.

I’d emailed Boris on the same day asking him to outline his views on the pigeon, and this is what was hit my inbox last night:

“Dear Mr pigeon”

Good start. Nothing like a bit of formality.

“Thank you very much for emailing the Back Boris campaign, and please excuse the delay in getting back to you.”

Even better. A personal reply, a thank you AND an apology.

“I shall pass on your mentioning of pigeons to Boris’ relevant researcher for review. Boris certainly doesn’t believe in wasting tax payers money to pay for hawks and megaphones to scare off the pigeons like Ken Livingstone has done. If elected, Boris will review the current situation and act accordingly. If there is anything else you would like to bring to our attention, please do not hesitate to get back in contact with us. It is vital that we hear from Londoners about the issues that matter to them.”

The fact he sees the whole hawk idea as ‘a waste of tax payers money’ rocks, and is a very good start. Maybe Boris is someone I could work with afterall…

“Yours sincerely, Jason Devan
Back Boris Campaign.”

It even gets the personal sign off by someone called ‘Jason’. Nice touch.

“For a Greater London vote Boris Johnson as your 1st choice for Mayor on May 1st”

I say ‘Go Boris’. Ok - so a reply from you in person would have been better, but at least your office took the time to get back to me on what I consider to be one of London’s hottest topics.

The one person I forgot to email was Brian Paddick, mainly coz he’s a ‘Lib Dem’, whatever that is? Anyway, seeing as he’s having a go too, and he’s called Brian, I got in touch with him just now to see what he was planning to do for the London pigeon. Will let you know soon as I hear anything.

So far though, I reckon it’s got to be Boris all the way.

Ok, so it was only a matter of time before word got out on my whereabouts.

Rocked up at ‘L’s yesterday and there he was bold as you like sat outside her window.

Been there for hours, apparently.

Soon as he heard the sound of my flaps, he turns round and goes:

“Bri - mate. Dude. It’s me, Rocky. Rocky from Edgeware. Remember me?”

I said I’d never seen him before and told him to fuck off.

The thing is, since the whole fame thing kicked in, it’s been happening alot. Random pigeons pitching up from nowhere pretending like they know me. Freaks.

He tries again: “Bri - it’s Rocky. Let me in will you…? Pal…?”

I told him to stop being a mental cunt and to get his arse off the sill.

Then it all went a bit weird:

“Ok, Brian Pigeon. You don’t know me, but I know you. I know everything about you. I know where you go to at night and I watch you while you sleep.”

Now I was scared. Jesus Christ. This dude really was a mental cunt.

“Let me in, Brian. I can make it all better. It’s meant to be. You and me. The two of us. We can go away somewhere. Somewhere nice. Somewhere we can be alone. I know places and I can show you things. Lots of things. Shiny things that will make you happy. I can make you happy, Brian…”

Then he just sat there, stared into the faraway, and went on and on about ‘all the lovely things we could do together’ and how we could be ‘pigeons in perfect harmony’. Fuck’s sake.

After a while, I stopped listening. I figured it was the only way to get rid of him. Ignore him and hope he goes away. It worked. He sloped off in the end. It’s bad enough having a stalker, but a mentalist gay stalker? If I have to have a stalker, can’t it be some sexed up gagging for it chick with everything to give and nothing to loose?

‘L’ said if he rocks up again she’ll tell him I’ve re-located to Wales. In the meantime, I am going to move ledges asap just in case he really does watch me while I sleep. Scary shit.

There we were strolling through St James’s Park all beefed up and raring to go with the planning for our very own National Pigeon Day - see post below - when we came across this. Jesus Christ. First I thought she was ladling out some bread bits, so I moved in for a closer look.

Then I heard what she was saying. Mental.

“Come. Come closer my pretties. No, not you, you foul urban dragnets with your blinky eyes and breath like mustard (presume that means us…). My woodies. My dear sweet wondrous woodies. Woodies are my friends (oh dear…). Go forth. Fly fast to the hills with your pretty white neckerchiefs. Go gather your armies at dawn. Rise up against those all dressed in grey. Rise up and fight the evil ones who seek to bring you down. Collect your flocks of woody perfection and together we shall crush them, for they are the enemy. Take heed of the actions of the pelican…”

“What the fuck’s she on about?”

“No idea, mate.”

Then it got nasty.

“I said GO! Go now before it is too late. Before the seed of London be theirs! Hear what I say, or be damned! Damned to hell!”

They both fucked off just after I took this. Reckon they were pretty taken aback by the whole affair. Hardly surprising, not that I much like the so-called ‘woody’. No particular reason other than the notable absence of a sense of humour. As for her - scary stuff. Thankfully, the woodies she chatted to were from Kent and had no idea what she was on about, which was a good thing seeing as this is the very park where a pelican wolfed down a pigeon called Alf only last year.

That said, if you click on the link you’ll see the whole thing was one big mistake. Poor Derek’s still in therapy, apparently…

Any wood pigeons out there who happen to bump into this total nutter, don’t listen to her. She’s clearly utterly fucking barking.

Apologies for the slackness on the posting front - this is mainly due to the slackness on the ‘L’ front. Jesus. She’s never fucking there. Night after night I’ve rocked up to a lights off empty pad. I was gonna suggest some kind of a Google diary share arrangement till I realised my days are pretty random and I find planning ahead a bit of a mare. Also, the only way I could access it is at ‘L’s, so totally pointless really. Maybe I’ll move to one of the handy local ledges out back? Pretty hidden, well sheltered and plenty to choose from. Also gets me away from the occasional random mobbing. Food for thought.

Anyway, talking ledges, I thought I’d pick up again on the ‘Brian Pigeon’s Guide to London’s Best Ledges’. Not done one for a while.

Ok, so this isn’t so much a ledge as it is a step. Fuck me though, it’s a new step. One giant spanking new step. A step so shiny and new that no-one’s so much as shat on it, till now. When do you ever get to prance about on a new step in London? Not ever, but here’s Mike lording it about with freaky orange jacket lady clearly looking on in envy wishing she too could touch the stone:

No chance, love. He also managed to lamp a large one just after I took this. Fair play.

The new steps I’m on about are the new steps at St Martin’s in The Fields church on Trafalgar Square.

If you wanna check out some more top London ledges - click here.

Ok - it looks like the yanks have got their shit together. National Pigeon Day is all on.

4 till 8 on Friday June 13th on Pilgrim Hill in Central Park, NYC.

This is their line up of speakers so far:

Deacon Joseph Dwyer who’s gonna banter on Cheri Ami - as usual, he probably won’t be covering the jazz aspect.

Karen Davis, Ph.D., President, United Poultry Concerns and author of ‘More Than A Meal - The Turkey In History’. Probably more of a pamphlet than a book. Apart from the their somewhat unfortunate appearance and loathing of Christmas I shouldn’t imagine there’s much more to say on the turkey. Karen is also editor of Poultry Press who produce a quarterly rag about chickens. Not a big fan of the chicken myself but I guess it gives them somewhere to vent their anger.
Then there’s Valerie Sicignano, East Coast Director, In Defense of Animals. Nice - presuming it includes birds?

Sadly, not a pigeon in sight, although I suspect lots may rock up on the day. Of course I offered my services straight away and said if the bill was chocca and a brief walk on part was out of the question I’d be more than happy to air-drop some flyers perhaps to parts of town they might not be able to get to, like Brooklyn?

Read more about the whole event here.

I still think it’s worth going for a global effort though and doing something here. Personally, I’d like to focus more on the party aspect. Free scran, a couple of lager pools, and maybe some foam? I’d also like to shift focus from the pigeon in nativity and get some music going. Maybe have The Pigeon Detectives do a set, or The Kooks?

Anyway, seeing as the people of London will have hopefully seen the light and ousted Ken from the top spot on May 1st, it may well be possible. I emailed Boris the other day to ask him what his stance on the pigeon was but not heard back yet…

Boris Johnson. Total spit.