Check this out for ill-informed signage design, and from Top Shop of all people.
Pigeons, advertising tights, stockings, hold-ups and the like:
How many pigeons have you ever seen wearing tights?
Especially in this weather, and particularly 50 denier:
Jesus. The chaffing would be unbearable.
That said, not a bad idea if you look like this. Cheers for the pic, Joseph:
I’d say a nice pair of plum colored hold-ups would be a radical improvement.
Kinda sexy too, possibly…? Not sure I’d know what to do with that chest tho, so maybe not.
Got back from my mini-break yesterday. Total disaster. There we were heading to Brighton flying like the clappers when Mart goes, “Shit, Bri. I’ve got cramp.” So that was it. We landed in south Croydon, and that’s where we stayed. South fucking Croydon. What a shit hole. Mart’s cramp got better after a few days hanging out in some dullard shopping center looking like a right pair of losers, and then we headed back to London. The best bit about the whole trip was catching the tail end of Murray’s win at Wimbledon. My pal and number one Murray fan, Murray is, of course, made up.
Anyway, more to the point, what’s going on with this hotness? Fat Jesus. I’m right up for a bit of summer and all that, but this is mental. Sweat pouring off the feathers like lemonade, and then I get rained on by drops the size of grapes. Nearly knocked me unconscious.
“You can’t start a fire
You can’t start a fire without a spark
This gun’s for hire
even if we’re just dancing in the dark”
Genius, and sound advice for anyone thinking of starting a fire.
So, onwards and upwards, and how’s about this for a bit of classic TV history? The opening titles for the splendid early 80s toon, ‘Pigeon Street‘. Cheers for sending it, Linda!
Rock on, and a catchy tune I’m sure you’ll agree. Enjoy:
Any pigeons out there considering attending a cricket match in the near future, think on.
Cheers for sending it, David.
Mart suggested it was about time we took a mini-break, so that’s what we’re gonna do. Off in a minute to Brighton. Short fly down the A23 and we’re there. Thinking we might check up on Dan. See if he’s still mad as a bag of pipe cleaners.
In the meantime, check out this worrying story about a squirrel clearly in training.
Add it together with this:
A squirrel in full combat gear, albeit not terribly successful on the camouflage front.
Cheers for sending it, Steve!
Loads of you sent me this New Yorker cartoon by Roz Chast:
Generally, I like to think of myself as a pretty straight up thinker. What you see is what you get. Aside from not walking under ladders, something I’ve always considered to be common sense, I’m not superstitious. Far from it. No namby pamby-ness about me whatsover, till I saw this, and nearly shat myself.
Bit of background first:
Henry Pigeon was a legend in his time. Total legend. He lived on top of a bakers just off Upper Street in Islington. As he was a regular visitor to the door of the baker, the baker got to know him and would often throw him not just the odd crumb, but entire wholemeal rolls. Far as most pigeons were concerned, Henry was onto a winner but, do you know what he did? Henry had heard that the pigeons in Hackney had it tough, so everyday he would take a small piece for himself, lift the remainder into his shivering beak, and carry it all the way to Mare Street where he’d break it up and distribute the crumbs amongst the needy. Day after day, that’s what he did. It wasn’t always easy either as sometimes the bread was a couple of days old and quite hard.
Anyway, one day Henry decided to try taking an entire seeded batch. Unfortunately, the loaf being larger than he was, the sheer weight and size of it was too much, and he dropped it. The loaf fell into the middle of the road, he chased after it in a flurry of feathers, and was run over by the number 38 bus.
So, that’s it. The legend of Henry Pigeon, but it doesn’t stop there. Oh no. The ghost of Henry Pigeon lives on. Some say he is still searching for the loaf, others say he likes to watch over the 38 bus route to make sure no other pigeons fall victim to it’s bendy length. Course, I never believed in such bollocks, till now.
Yesterday, Mart rocks up. I tell him he looks like he’s seen a ghost, to which he replies, “I just have Bri. Fuck me. Check it out.”
Sure enough, there it was, clear as a hazy day. Mart had gone out and about with the cam, and managed to take a pic of the ghost of Henry pigeon sat looking out over Rosebery Avenue:
You can tell it’s him by the angle of the neck.
The scariest shit I’ve seen in a long time.
Obviously, now I know ghosts exist, I’ll be on the lookout. Thinking I might hit Wimbledon this year. See if a few of those who got it last year are still roaming the rafters… Murray’s not been the same since.
Whoever said pigeons don’t appreciate art? Load of old bollocks.
Check this out. Sent to me by Edward. Cheers, Edward!
A pigeon attempting to attend the Futurism exhibition at Tate Modern:
I suspect he didn’t get much further than this as no-one appears to be selling tickets.
Fair play to him for giving it a go tho.
Total genius Shit or Miss skills! Nice one.
Cheers for sending it, Damian!
Me and Mart came up with a top new game yesterday, mainly out of boredom. It’s called ‘What the fuck is that?’, or ‘WTF?’ for short.
It’s all about guessing the derivation of potential food found on either the pavement, or the road. Recognising what is and isn’t edible can often be a challenge, so I’m hoping that, as well as being fun, our findings might also act as a useful tool in the prevention of stomach upset.
Thankfully, some things we come across are easily identifiable, like an elastic band for example:
Or a cigarette butt, particularly one that’s still alight:
Could be painful.
This, on the other hand – What the fuck?:
It looks like it might have been fruit which, if fruit isn’t your thing, as is the case with most of us, it should be avoided. What gives it away is the small piece of reddened skin top left. However, we were thrown slightly by the chunk on the right. A piece of cake possibly…? As it was so close to the skin piece, we concluded it must be all apple, and walked away.
So, the plan is this: I’m going to take pics whenever I see a random piece of shit, and see if anyone out there can guess what it was. Bring it on.
I kid you not. No idea how word got out, but it did, and now he wants rid of them just as much as we do. Nice one, Charlie. With you all the way.
He said they were responsible for ‘immense and increasing damage and must be exterminated’. He didn’t go into the whole Kung-Fu thing, but then again, I guess he didn’t have to.
So, riding the tide of the media frenzy, it’s back on it with ‘Operation Stop The Squirrel’.
Down with the squirrel!
Thinking I might recruit Bill & Ed into the cause – see post below.
This, on the other hand, is not good. Sent to me by Ian. Cheers, Ian!
Korea has labeled the pigeon a ‘harmful wild animal’.
“In a revised law on wild animals and plants control which became effective yesterday, pigeons can be seized with the permission of local government heads.”
Pretty rich considering they’ve just randomly nuked several thousand fish for no reason whatsoever. Also, far be it for me to point out one minor detail, but we’re birds, you fuckwits, not animals. Jesus.
I’m sure I don’t need to say it, but this weather rocks the big one. Only one slight problem, the heat seems to be making a few pigeons a little too hot under the feathers. Take this pair for example. Me and Mart were out and about copping a fly over the rooftops of Clerkenwell when we head a right kerfuffle going off below, so we flew down to investigate, and this is what we saw. A couple of pigeon pals having a proper go at each other. Jesus. I was scared. All Bill did was call Ed a fat fucker, apparently, and that was it. He said he was joking, but Ed clearly didn’t see the funny side.
Check it out:
Eye to eye combat. Full on. That’s Ed on the left.
Best not repeat the verbal.
Then Bill makes a bit of a comeback with a textbook neck dive:
Only to have Ed try and shit on him:
Wasn’t sure about that tactic myself.
Then he tried something else:
“Sniff my pit you fuck”
Equally as pointless in my opinion. Bill just stood there.
Then it got a whole lot worse as Ed dragged Bill by the head across the molten metal:
I considered stepping in at this point, but thought better of it. Frankly, I’m not much of a fighter, and both of them looked bigger than me.
Eventually, Bill conceded and apologised:
Not that he had much choice with Ed’s beak buried deep into the wing join.
So – that’s what happens when summer takes us by surprise. The simplest thing can cause the biggest ruck.
Bet Bill will think again before he calls another pigeon a fat fuck. That said, so will I.