Desperate Dan Hits The Rocks
What a freaky weird few weeks. Jesus. First off I get evicted from my Soho sweatshop, the next I get struck down with the most dreadful emptying of the bowels, and now, just when I thought the world was going straight, ‘L’ gets fucked over by some twat called BT who totally cocks up her broadband. Love to meet the nonce. Sets himself up as a doer of all things broadband, and then can’t even get the line in straight. What the fuck? ‘L’ was doing her nut this morning. Don’t blame her. Thought I’d leave her to it seeing as there’s not much I can do to help, apart from lamp a large shit on his cunty head when he finally rocks up.
Managed to break back into Norms for one last time. I remember him saying he’s visiting his ‘really good friend’ in Doncaster this weekend…
Hopefully, if BT can get it up, all will be good from tomorrow onwards. Better be. All this instability is doing my head in. It’s made me realise how much I love a bit of routine. I know it may sound strange for a pigeon to be into ‘routine’, but I am. I discussed this with Mart who said he was the opposite and preferred to live his life ‘perched on a knife edge of fiery unpredictability’. I’m not convinced that’s strictly true.
So – to desperate Dan going slowly mental in Brighton. We winged it all the way down the M23 in well bad freeze-your-arse-off conditions. One stressed out arctic blow down all the way. No fun whatsoever. Got there and managed to find a place to stay, which was tough seeing as most places were pretty chocca…
This is where we ended up:
Guess it’s the pigeon equivalent of a Travelodge? Nothing in the way of facilities, cramped conditions all round with not even so much as a complimentary shortbread. Sea views rocked though. Got chatting to some of the residents. Turns out most of them were on a weekend mini-break. Came from all sorts of places. Met one dude who’d winged it all the way from Dudley. I asked him where that was but I couldn’t understand a fucking word he said, apart from the fact he was into boats.
Next day we headed off to find Dan. Last we’d heard, he’d moved on from the puddles – see post, and was holed up in a chalky hole somewhere in the cliffs.
We found him pretty easily in the end:
Tragic. Just standing there he was looking well ragged humming the theme tune to Thunderbirds over and over again. He was tapping his toe at the same time. Think it was to a completely different tune tho.
We tried to talk to him. Nothing. Mart even stood right in front of him. Only lasted a couple of minutes. His breath was well rank, apparently.
Not sure what else we can do apart from go visit him from time to time and hope he moves on from Thunderbirds to something a bit cooler, like ‘Mr. Brightside’ by The Killers for example? Just a thought.