Kingswinford Here We Come

Not sure why but Kingswinford in Staffordshire, a little known market town near Dudley of all places, has become the place to be seen for the pigeon. Rooo Roooo sent me the story. Cheers, Rooo Roooo!

Apparently it all started about two weeks ago. Check it out.

Here’s a picture of everyone sat in a tree:

Wicked.

You can read the story here.

Turns out after a little investigation that it’s all linked in to the whole squirrel issue. Rumour has it that, for some totally obscure reason, squirrels are scarce in Kingswinford. Word spread and before you know it –  a haven for the fleeing pigeon. Sadly there really isn’t much else going on for the place apart from that. In fact, I’d go as far as to say the activities on offer might even top Calderdale on the boredom stakes.

Who the fuck has ever heard of Kingswinford? Well you have now and, if you’re interested, click here to see where it is.

This kind of says it all. Believe it or not, this is part of the their website’s ‘come visit us sometime, please…’ sales pitch:

“As you drive (or walk) along these roads can you picture our historic past – if you get time have a look at the “Kingswinford clock”, on display in the lighting shop on the corner of Market Street and Park Street…”

Can’t fucking wait.

That said, anywhere that reckons it’s low on squirrel count has go to be a winner, which leaves us with little choice. Kingswinford is the new HQ. Pigeon Central. Nerve-centre of ‘Operation Stop The Squirrel’ – the somewhat unimaginative title of our ongoing battle to get the bushy fucks back in the trees where they belong, or at the very least put a stop to the Kung Fu movement and the ever-increasing numbers displaying unnecessarily aggressive tendencies towards anything that moves.

Only because I have to, I can feel a trip to Kingswinford coming on soon as. Go talk to the boys. See if the rumours are true. Take it from there. Check whether they’re interested in joining us in our fight for freedom. The freedom we deserve as citizens of the skies.

Frankly, seeing as spending the rest of the their days hiding out in the trees of Kingswinford clearly sucks, I don’t think recruitment is gonna be that hard.

Mart, of course, is wetting his feathers. Me, him and the London posse heading up North on one one of the most important reconnaissance missions in recent pigeon history. Have to say, I’m pretty excited myself.

Kingswinford, here we come.

I can feel a speech coming on. How about this:

“Pigeons, in the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words; with hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come; let it be said by all future generations of pigeon that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter;”

Sets the feathers on edge, don’t it?