So that’s it then. Summer’s just the two days this year. Fucking ridiculous.
Here are some of the memories of last summer (i.e. the day before yesterday).
Went down to Brighton as it seemed the obvious thing to do on a hot summer’s day. Turns out every other fucker had the same idea it was that obvious. Sky was full of all the worst pigeons I’d ever seen, and all heading to the seaside. Mental. Should have heard the noises some of the were making. Jesus. I reckon a fair few had never even left their ledges before never mind played Shit or Miss on the M25.
Not seen the Brighton Road so full up for a long time. Beak to tail it was most of the way, particularly when the hot dog van came into view.
Got there, and it all started out fine. Boiling hot, walking around on the beach, when we could find a space big enough to land on that was. Managed to avoid the nightmares most of the time. Couldn’t understand what they were saying anyway. Then, soon as I got chatting to a pigeon from Hove called Steve who suggested ‘hanging out at the station for a while’, it all went a bit weird. His said it was getting near to home time for the Londoners, so not a bad spot for the odd chip or two.
Turns out it was so fucking hot in there it was almost unbearable. Stifling. Talk about bringing on a feather sweat. Pretty soon everyone started to get a bit bored and irritable, even after the slightly ridiculous ‘Help, Help. We’re being chased’ routine from Mark and Gary:
Then, Gary goes “Chips!”, and flies off faster than I’ve seen a pigeon fly for a long time. Here’s Mark trying to keep up:
And then, carnage, and all over about five chips:
Total and utter carnage:
Serious words going on bottom left. Not sure Mark appreciated the nudge.
Dave, on the other hand, grasped the perfect opportunity. Fair play. He was pretty quick off the mark.
Then the chips ran out, and it was all over in about ten minutes. The atmosphere went a bit flat after that, so Mart and me headed back to the Smoke.
My conclusion is, I’m not sure how good serious heat is for pigeons. Really. It’s great fun in moments pretending we live in a tropical climate, and I know I wang on about the rain a lot, but I actually think too much heat can make us go a bit mad. Know what I mean?
Saying that, chip stress aside, it was a top day out. Probably gonna keep in touch with Gary and Mark too.
No. You don’t say.
An article today on bbc.co.uk’s Nature News page states that pigeons are more likely to go to friendly people for food rather than those displaying aggressive tendencies:
‘The pigeons avoided the hostile feeder even when the two feeders exchanged their coats’
Not really news now, is it.
I presume whoever came to this conclusion hadn’t got much else on.
Found this choice story today about how a pigeon on his way to watch some tennis at Wimbledon got stuck behind some old lady’s wardrobe and had to be rescued by firemen. Massive shame up. Bet he only popped in to get away from the pissing rain. Poor fuck. Still, he was wasting his time anyway if he thought he was going to see any tennis. Pointless in this weather.
Got me thinking – I should try to track down Murray. Remember the massive tennis fan Murray from a few years back? The same Murray who changed his name from Roy in honor of his hero, Andy Murray?
This was Murray back in 2008:
The same year he was tragically shot at whilst on the roof of center court watching a game.
Seeing as Andy Murray seems to stand a reasonable chance of getting further than the second round, especially since he won his first match yesterday, I’d like to hear Murray’s thoughts on his recent form, and what he thinks his chances are in reaching the final.
Anyone out there seen Murray recently, the pigeon that is, let me know. Word on the street is he never quite recovered from the shooting and was last seen sleeping rough under the rafters of Queens…
I know I’m often accused of being somewhat weather obsessed, but really, are you surprised when the summer’s as shit as this? Thankfully, it’s only June, so there’s still time… If there’s no improvement, I’m seriously considering introducing migration for pigeons. Can’t be that hard, surely? Get a few of us together and fuck off somewhere warm, like Morocco?
Anyway, out and about the other day and got caught in what can only be described as a waterfall coming out of the sky. Unbelievable.
It was pissing down so badly we had to hide in a tunnel to dry off.
This is me in the tunnel:
Then, just when I was about to die of boredom, a pal of mine called Phil rocked up.
To cheer up what would have been an otherwise miserable experience, he decided to kick off a bit of a sing song.
Here he is on the left in full flow doing the leg kicks and everything:
This is what he was singing, done to the tune of ‘Singing in the Rain’:
‘We’re pigeons in the rain.
Just pigeons in the rain
What a glorious feelin’
We’re happy again!’
Spotted this rather lovely thing down on Richmond beach the other day.
The one in the middle in white. Annabel’s her name:
Every pigeon there that day wanted a bit, but she was having none of it. Check out Kevin on the right. Desperate he was. Didn’t even get a glance.
I tried walking past her a few times:
Had to sit down after this was taken. Think I’d pulled a small chest muscle holding my stomach in.
It wasn’t until afterwards that Mart pointed out the goose behind staring at me.
He was doing it all day, apparently. Eyeing up the pigeons, dribbling a bit.