A Right Sort

There I was, out and about with Mart in Clerkenwell flapping about in the sunshine minding my own business, when we spot this rather lovely thing:

Jesus. Nearly wet myself, so we went in for a closer look.

If pigeons could wank I’d have been in a right mess. Fucking gorgeous she was, till she opened her beak. Oh dear. I asked her what her name was and out came this high pitched noise. No words, just noise. Unintelligible and painful to the ears. May as well have been another language.

I said ‘Pardon?’ and asked her to repeat herself, which she did, and the same thing happened. Using my inbuilt word decoder I think she said her name was Stacey, but I can’t be sure. Realising that she really was only one for the eye, we moved on. Can’t be doing with that. No matter how brief or limited, some level of conversation is essential I reckon, although this is something Mart disagrees with, but that’s probably because conversation isn’t his strong point either.

That said, I couldn’t help feeling a tad disappointed. Oh well.

July 16, 2008. Uncategorized.


  1. Pigeon Rachel replied:

    If only you’d been drunk Bri. A tenner says you wouldn’t have been anywhere near as fussy.

  2. pigeonblog replied:

    Pigeon Rachel: A fair point well made.
    Your pal

  3. collegehookerboy replied:

    Frankly, she looks a little overweight to me. If you’re really cruising for some nice feathered ass, the best place in London is probably Regents Park – though many of the pigeons there are alcoholics and/or involved in criminal activity.

  4. pigeonblog replied:

    cillegehookerboy: Regents Park is indeed a great pulling spot, even better though is Trafalgar Square. It’s where the tourists go,and there’s nothing quite like a bit of foreign feathered arse.
    Your pal
    Bri P

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