Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Birds are crunts.
My loathing of owls is a matter of public record but now I’m forced to conclude the entire avian species has it in for me.
For the past week at around six in the morning, a bird has taken to waking us up with its particularly revolting early morning call.
If you travel long enough on public transport, you’ll eventually come across an older citizen (usually a bloke) with one or two hygiene issues and a hacking cough of a strength and quality which suggests he’s in the process of coughing up his lungs, spleen and a portion of lower colon into his hankie*.
That’s what has been greeting us each morning.
I suggested to Kitty that she might like do her job and remove said bird.
Her expression suggested that I might like to go fuck myself and where was her fucking breakfast?
It’s true, my cat is Father Jack.
*If you’re lucky, they have a hankie.