This morning I got up early, took my skipping rope to the garages and had a little hop. After only a couple of hundred skips I'd pulled a muscle in my calf, great. Saw the nefarious man who throws bread to the pigeons as he took his car out of the garage. I hold contempt for him and have been mindful of how angry he makes me feel. As I said to Sparkling the other day, if I lamp him one and get carted off to the cop shop, it's not going to look good at the Fish Factory. My running out to the garages at the ungodly hour of 5:45 a.m. is to catch the bastard, but he daren't feed the birds with me about. I went in after only 600 skips, I just couldn't do it with a pulled muscle and kept whipping myself with the rope. Not intentionally, it's made of leather and spins pretty quick. The rope. So heading in I put some toast on, and kept an eye on the roof. A few pigeons flew overhead. One went onto the roof and I sprayed him with water. Put the kettle on, buttered my toast, then had a look out the window, to see a bunch of the disease ridden flying rats come swooping down. The bastard had done it again. I went out in the garden and could just see a couple of pieces of rolls thrown up on a garage. He is sneaking into the garages again after I finished my skipping and then because I've been throwing his bread back into his garden he now throws it on the garage roofs. I can feel my anger welling up. I say to myself, if it wasn't for him I wouldn't have a skip in the morning once in a while. It looks like the only way I'm going to sort him out is to sit out in the garages on a chair the entire morning the bollock him out if he tries a sneaky. I'm waiting for the cat to have a big crap in his dirt tray, because it's got the bastards name on it and is going to get bunged over into his garden.
So I went back in the kitchen after spraying some more water at the pigeons and the flew off leaving the bits of bread on the garage. I didn't think much. Just pissed off. Had a sip of fresh coffee, bite of my toast, walked out in the garden, looked over the wall into the garages. Turned round to head back in the kitchen, and there sitting on the wall was a big porky, hairy, fury flipping squirrel. My paranoia with pigeons has now moved to a new level. The last thing anyone wants in the roof is a squirrel. Shit. Picked up the hose, turned it on and sprayed the furry flea bitten pest, it bounded away and quite easily dodged the water. I turned off the hose. Went back into the kitchen for another sip of coffee and bite of my toast, added a little black pepper. Went out in the garden looked over at the garages. Blow me down, the squirrel had come back, got ontop of the garages and was eating the bread. Little fecking shit. I now have no doubt there is a time and place for the ownership of a double barrelled shot gun for pest control purposes. This is the time and the place. Unfortunately I'm not a person interested in fire arms or keeping them, just on mounting pigeon heads or even the odd squirrel head. After all the grey ones are not indigenous to this country and are classed as vermin here. Our native species is the red squirrel. I personally think we should capture all the grey ones and send the to America in one big bloody tanker.
If I am lucky I will get up early tomorrow. If I am really lucky I'll prevent the pigeons, squirrel and local bastard from getting their own way. If they are really unlucky I'll inherit a shot gun from a long lost deceased uncle and bloody use it. Then look up ways in which to cook both squirrel and pigeon while the. Anyone for some pie?
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