Seeing as this fairly appalling image is the state of play in London for the next few days weather-wise:
Mart suggested we invest in one of these. He reckons there’s plenty of room for two:
He also said we’d be the envy of all London pigeons.
Frankly, I just think we’d look like a pair of total twats. What are we going to do? Sail it across Trafalgar Square? Circumnavigate Piccadilly Circus? Battle against the cobbled rapids of Covent Garden?
Found an article today, and had to post this.
The article said there were no pigeons in Disneyland, and blamed it on duck’s and crows. As if. If we wanted to go, fuck the duck’s and crows, we’d be there.
The reason there are no pigeons in Disneyland is we have no interest in going. None whatsoever. Too many people. Too hot and, unsurprisingly, no left overs. Have you seen the size of them in Disneyland? Jesus.
Basically, there is no point in it, so we hang out in the car park instead where they all eat cheap sandwiches.
No-brainer if you ask me.
Went down to Richmond today to watch the Olympic Practice cycle race. Of course, we missed it. Mart suggested a game of Shit or Miss over the cyclists would have been a laugh. He had a point, had there been any fucking cyclists.
Anyway, the whole day was made worthwhile by the appearance of Rancid Norma. Hilarious. Still trying to flog her feathery arse after all this time. Someone should tell her getting the whole thing out isn’t appealing in any way. Not even slightly. Made me want to be a bit sick as it goes.
Here she is, wings akimbo:
Unanimously all round it was, “No we are not interested in what you have to offer us. Now go away.”
There was a dramatic scene today when a row erupted between a rabbit and a blackbird. A breakaway group from Kingston who call themselves ‘The Birds Of Extreme Freedom’ – needless to say, they didn’t want to be identified – spread the word we’d be joining in with our own ‘wild and angry protest’, in Richmond Park. “Go’loot a few rabbit holes”.
For fuck’s sake.
I went along to cover it only to find literally five blackbirds had rocked up from Syon Park:
They weren’t even that angry and, frankly, just looked a bit confused.
One of them had a go a rabbit hole:
Rabbits just said, “Fuck off. We’re eating.”
Then he only went and hid being a hill. Ridiculous:
That was it. Total waste of time.
Location aside, another reason no-one else turned up was we’re all looking for fucking ledges out of London. As I tweeted this morning, hundreds of pigeons are arriving from all over looking for a safe place to kip.
Bumped into a load from Croydon.
Some were even prepared to risk the spikes:
“Any old ledge will do, so long as it’s not on fire,” one of them said.
Frankly, I’m not a big fan of the Croydon lot, but you’ve got to feel sorry for them. Lost everything, apparently.
So, that’s it. Rest assured there won’t be a singe pigeon involved in any rioting that happens tonight.
You have my word on it.
Found this the other day.
Two utter freaks going mental at each other.
“Oi, you. What’s with the massive gay feet?”
“That’s rich. You seen the size of yours lately?”
Check it out:
Despite efforts to educate London pigeons in the art of food management, it seems the number of those now registering as officially obese, some of them morbidly so, has risen dramatically over the past year.
Apparently the problem gets worse the further south you go.
Found these two in Merton.
The first instance I’ve seen where the ‘Don’t Feed The Pigeons’ sign might just be a good idea:
I asked them if they wanted to come down and talk to me. There clearly wasn’t any room up there. To be honest, it was more of a test really, and I was right. They were so fat they couldn’t get down. Unbelievable. Then I asked them what they had for breakfast. They said pizza base. And lunch? Pizza base. I suggested a more varied diet might work? They told me to fuck off.
Anyway, I just got back and looked it up, and no wonder. Jesus. The only takeaways in Merton are pizza joints. Literally.
When I Googled ‘takeaways in Merton’, all I got was this:
Nothing but pizzas, unless Google has me tagged as a pizza fan, which is impossible. Last time I found a pizza all I got was a cold piece of pineapple I wasn’t expecting. Consequently, I’ve never searched for pizzas. Not online, not anywhere, not ever.
So there you have it. Stop feeding pigeons the seed, and all they get is pizza.
Food for thought.