Valentine’s Day In Peckham
This year, I decided to spend Valentine’s Day in Peckham. Fancied getting out of the West End where suddenly, for one fucking day only, it’s full of pigeons staring at eachother. Jesus. They’re everywhere. Valentines really is a complete waste of time. A totally made up day. Any pigeons participating should be firmly forced to remain on their fucking ledges. It’s also amazing how many ‘couples’ suddenly come out of the brickwork too. I reckon most of them only got it together for Valentines. Didn’t want to feel left out. Probably all waking up now going, ‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’.
Frankly, I consider it to be a day largely for wankers. That said, Peckham was a right laugh in the end.
Why Peckham? Well, Mart and I sat there yesterday morning listing the least romantic places on earth we could spend the day. Aside from Elephant and Castle, and possibly Walthamstow, Peckham came tops.
Being outsiders in what is generally considered to be a fairly rough part of town, we got a few strange looks at first:
But once they heard who I was, the pigeon who’s been telling it how it is for the pigeons of London for the past five years, they got over it. In fact, I think they were secretly quite into me taking photos of them. They don’t get many outsiders visiting, particularly from the West End.
“Bunch of fucking namby pamby fucking nancies the lot of them,” one of them said. Obviously, we didn’t say a word.
Anyway, it all chilled out after a while despite the fact there were loads of them and they’re all hard as fuck:
Check out the one at the top about to land on the dude below. All he’d done was look at his other half. It wasn’t even a long look, apparently. Just a glance. Jesus.
Then the white bread arrived.
All we could hear was the word ‘cunt’. ‘This cunt’, ‘That cunt’, ‘Fuck off, cunt’, ‘You’re a cunt’, ‘Get out the way, cunt.’ On and on it went. Never heard the word used so much.
Despite feeling a little out of my depth, I quite liked the fact they seemed to ignore Valentines completely. In fact, I don’t remember seeing any ladies at all, or none that I recognised as ladies anyway…
I’ve also never seen white bread like it. Great big thick white slices of it. No poncy seed down there. It’s solid carbs all the way. When I asked one of them whether he’d ever eaten lettuce, he had no idea what I was on about.
Fuck knows how, but Mart managed to get himself his own slice, so he was happy:
Or he was till the dude on the right disappeared with it. Thankfully, Mart decided against pursuing it otherwise he might not be here now.
Still, we made a couple of mates, like Harry The Hat. He’s the one the left with a right gob full:
Harry’s a proper old school gangster who went into retirement a couple of years ago. Said he’d be up for an interview sometime, which rocks.
All in all, I reckon Peckham’s the spot-on choice for any pigeon wanting to give the whole Valentines deal a wide berth, just don’t look any of them in the eye for too long.