The Big Birds Club

This is something I’ve wanted to do for a while, just could never be fucked to haul my arse down there. Today, however, after falling off the wagon into what turned out to be a large spillage of Red Bull on the corner of Compton and Wardour, I had no choice. Few of us took off, and couldn’t stop. Off our tits. Wings flapping all over the place. Next thing I know I hear Mart shouting something: “Bri. Bri… Bri… Bri!”

I wanted to slow down, but my wings were having none of it.

“Bri. Bri. Three words. Big Birds Club.”

I looked down and saw we were indeed crossing the Thames somewhere near Kingston, and realised he was right. Fucking result. The Big Birds Club. I found myself slowing down almost instinctively. Speeding off our nuts though we were, it had to be done. If anything, the juice of the Bull would probably help.

We get there, and here it is. The Big Birds Club.

Most of them are even more twatted than us:

Beyond help. Jesus.

The one on the left was stood there like that with its leg in the air for ages. Hours. Didn’t move. I think the one on the right was asleep. Either that or he’d lost his weed.

Some were still dancing, badly, while others were clearly way too fucked to move:

Genius. Great spot too. Even the sun was shining.

The Big Birds Club is exactly what it says it is. A private members all nighter exclusively for Big Birds. Geese, Ducks and the like. Even Sea Dulls are welcome, but as for the urban grey, it’s a big no. Wood Pigeons sometimes get away with it, apparently, but pigeons like us? No fucking way. The Security Geese see to that. Well hard and probably on steroids, they’re not to be messed with. Not even slightly.

And this is the Big Bird himself bearing all the markings of a great night:

And that’s us standing around in the background chewing like idiots.

The whole thing was his idea. Started it a few years back. Bit of a Legend as it goes. Ran something similar in Hyde Park for a while, till it got busted, so he moved it to Ham claiming those who still wanted to come would travel. He wasn’t wrong. It was packed.

So, once we could actually string a sentence together and listen to eachother long enough to know what we were talking about, we hatched a plan.

This is us, hatching our plan:

And this is me and Doug giving it some fine tuning:

Not sure we achieved quite the low profile we were after, but it didn’t matter in the end. Turned out to be a piece of piss. The idea was I had to distract the Security Goose while Doug slipped in.

So I go:  “What’s that over there? Looks like a sparrow. It is… It’s a very small sparrow, and I think it might be dancing…”:

Worked a treat.

Check out Doug slipping in behind, and that was it. Once we were in, there was no getting rid of us.

Great end to a great day. Sure it helped with the Red Bull comedown too, and that can be nasty.

Best chill out for a long time. Fuck knows we needed it.

Hung out for so long even the Security Goose went to sleep:

Good times.

Check out Doug on the right. Absolutely fucked.

January 10, 2011. Uncategorized.


  1. Lee-Anne replied:

    Classic times, Brian. What a coo!

  2. Tweets that mention The Big Birds Club « Pigeon Blog -- replied:

    […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Brian Pigeon, Jonathan Akwue. Jonathan Akwue said: Chill out at the Big Birds Club: from the mad genius @BrianPigeon […]

  3. pigeonblog replied:

    Lee-Anne: Good times indeed.
    Your pal

    Cheers Jon!
    Your pal Bri

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