Now, I don't mean women, I'm talking about actual birds, the flying ones!
On Monday morning, I was leaving my house and on my front lawn I spotted an aray of feathers, "hrmm" says I, as I walked over for a further look and lo and behold what was lying brown bread on my grass only a parrot (pictured below)
"polly want a....face"
Now, It was 7am, on a Monday morning, after a heavy weekend, so I allowed myself to think it was just a dream, but by the time I woke up properly (11am) I realised that someones pet had met their untimely demise in my front garden - I thought for a second - was it my killer hound that dealt the fatal blow? but I soon realised that she had been asleep in her kennel all night long (I know this because I closed the door over and it was in the same position the following morning....and to the best of my knowledge, she can't close doors)
So I reckon, perhaps a magpie or magpies had attacked this lovely creature, leaving me with the remains - which I buried in a small ceremony near where I found her body.
Poor thing.
Secondly, and most frighteningly, I was driving down the coast road yesterday, to meet the missus for a pint and a bite to eat in Clontarf, I pulled into a carpark on the sea front and as I approached the spot I had chosen I noticed there was a Cormorant (pictured below) perched on the micra beside me, however, he or she was clearly unhappy with me to be there and swooped up into the air and literally hovered like a giant dragon in front of my car.
"it's a cormorant"
Put the fucking heart crossways in me.
So I'm waiting for the 3rd installment of my bird drama to unfold, these things happen in trees I'm told.
(awful joke...not even clever funny)
4 comments:
Classic!
Fact: Cormorants aren't too forthcoming with people who snag them on fishing hooks.
You totally should have brought that parrot to Wacker's Pet Shop and gone all Cleese on them.
Mr. Praline : 'Ello. I wish to register a complaint.
(The owner has his back to the register and does not respond.)
Mr. Praline : 'Ello, Miss?
Owner : (turning around, very angry) What do you mean, "miss"?
Mr. Praline : I'm sorry, I have a cold.
(The owner nods, understanding.)
Mr. Praline : I wish to make a complaint!
Owner : (hurriedly) Sorry, we're closin' for lunch...!
Mr. Praline : Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot, what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Owner : Oh yes, the, ah, the Norwegian Blue... What's, ah... W-what's wrong with it?
Mr. Praline : I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. It's dead, that's what's wrong with it.
Owner : No, no, 'e's ah... he's resting.
Mr. Praline : Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
Owner : No no, h-he's not dead, he's, he's restin'!
Mr. Praline : Restin'?
Owner : Y-yeah, restin.' Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, isn't it, eh? Beautiful plumage!
Mr. Praline : The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead!
Owner : Nononono, no, no! 'E's resting!
Mr. Praline : All right then, if he's resting, I'll wake him up!
(shouting at the cage)
'Ello, Polly! Mister Polly Parrot! I've got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if you wake up, Mr. Polly Parrot...
(owner hits the cage)
Owner : There, he moved!
Mr. Praline : No, he didn't, that was you pushing the cage!
Owner : I never!!
Mr. Praline : Yes, you did!
Owner : I never, never....
(He pulls the parrot out of the cage and screams into its ear.)
Mr. Praline : 'ELLO POLLAAAAAAAY! POLL-EE! POLLY PARROT! WAKE UP!
(He bangs its head against the store counter, horribly hard.)
TESTIIIING! TESTIIIING! THIS IS YOUR NINE-O' CLOCK ALARM CALL!
(He does it again, harder.)
POLL-EEEEEEE!
(He tosses it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor. Longish pause.)
Now that's what I call a dead parrot.
Owner : No, no.... No, he's stunned.
Mr. Praline : STUNNED?
Owner : Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Norwegian Blues stun easily, major.
Mr. Praline : Look my lad, I've had just about enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I bought it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out after a long squawk.
Owner : Well, he's... he's, ah... probably pining for the fjords.
(Praline looks angrily back and forth, stuttering.)
Mr. Praline : PININ' for the FJORDS? What kind of talk is that? Look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?
Owner : The Norwegian Blue prefers kippin' on its back! Remarkable bird, isn't it, guv, eh? Lovely plumage!
Mr. Praline : (coldly) Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.
(pause)
Owner : Well, of course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its little pecker, and VOOM!
Mr. Praline : "VOOM?"
(Praline puts the cage down and take the parrot into his hands.)
Mr. Praline : Look matey, this parrot wouldn't "voom" if you put four thousand volts through it! It's bleedin' demised!
Owner : It's not! I-It's pining!
Mr. Praline : It's not pinin,' it's passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late parrot! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed him to the perch he would be pushing up the daisies! Its metabolical processes are of interest only to historians! It's hopped the twig! It's shuffled off this mortal coil! It's run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! This.... is an EX-PARROT!
(pause)
Owner : Well, I'd better replace it, then.
(He disappears behind the counter.)
Mr. Praline : (turning to camera) If you want to get anything done in this country you've got to complain 'til you're blue in the mouth.
(The owner returns.)
Owner : Sorry guv, we're fresh out of parrots.
Mr. Praline : I see. I see, I get the picture.
Owner : (quietly) I-I've got a slug.
(pause)
Mr. Praline : (sweet as sugar) Does it talk?
Owner : Not really, no.
Mr. Praline : Well, it's SCARCELY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT then, IS IT?
Owner : Listen, I'll tell you what, tell you what, if you go to my brother's pet shop in Bolton, he'll replace your parrot for you.
Mr. Praline : Bolton, eh?
Owner : Yeah.
Mr. Praline : All right.
(He leaves.)
(CAPTION: "A SIMILAR PET SHOP IN BOLTON, LANCASHIRE")
(The customer enters a very similar pet shop, with a sign on the front reading "Similar Pet Shops, Ltd." The owner, who looks similar to his brother, is putting on a large false moustache in order to better distinguish himself from his brother. Which he isn't. Praline looks about and finds it to be very similar indeed. And when he finds his same bird cage, with the same dead bird inside, that just about clinches it.)
Mr. Praline : Uh, excuse me, this is Bolton, is it?
Owner : (with the fake mustache) No, it's Ipswitch.
Mr. Praline : (looking at the camera) That's inter-city rail for you.
(Mr Praline goes to the train station. He addresses a man standing behind a desk marked "Complaints.")
Mr. Praline : I wish to make a complaint.
Attendant : I don't have to do this, you know!
Mr. Praline : I beg your pardon...?
Attendant : I'm a qualified brain surgeon! I only do this 'cause I like being my own boss!
Mr. Praline : Excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it?
Attendant : Oh yeah, well, most transcripts woulda stopped at the slug line.
Mr. Praline : Leave it to PythoNET, eh?
Attendant : Yeah, yeah.
Mr. Praline : Well, I wish to complain! I got on the Bolton train and found myself deposited here in Ipswitch.
Attendant : No, this is Bolton.
Mr. Praline : (to the camera) The pet shop owner's brother was lying!
Attendant : Well, you can't blame British Rail for that.
Mr. Praline : If this is Bolton, I shall return to the pet shop!
(Zoom in on the bewildered attendant. Mr. Praline returns to the pet shop.)
(CAPTION: "A LITTLE WHILE LATER LIMITED")
Mr. Praline : I understand that this IS Bolton.
Owner : (still with the fake mustache) Yeah?
Mr. Praline : But you told me it was Ipswitch!
Owner : (a bit meekly) It was a pun.
Mr. Praline : A pun??
Owner : No, no ... not a pun ... What's the other thing where it reads the same backwards as forwards?
(longish pause)
Mr. Praline : A palindrome...?
Owner : Yeah, yeah.
Mr. Praline : It's not a palindrome! The palindrome of "Bolton" would be "Notlob!" It don't work!!
Owner : Well, what do you want?
Mr. Praline : No, I'm sorry! I'm not prepared to pursue my line of inquiry any longer as I think this is getting too silly!
Owner : Silly, sir?
Mr. Praline : And take off that moustache!
Owner : (taking off moustache) Silly, sir?
Mr. Praline : Yes, silly! I've come in here with a perfectly legitimate complaint and you have done everything in your power to turn my afternoon into a comedy of errors! This, therefore, is silly!
(He slams his parrot down on the counter to illustrate the point.)
Owner : Y-yeah. Silly. (gets ashamed, looks at his feet)
Mr. Praline : Well.
(Excruciatingly long pause.)
Owner : (quietly) D'you.... d'you want to come back to my place?
(Pause.)
Mr. Praline : Yeah, all right.
(They leave quickly, arm in arm.)
Where'd you go eating in Clontarf by the way?
Clontarf Court.
Babs is duck shit crazy about that Curry in there for some reason.
I just like food in all it's guises.
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