Spring has sprung the grass has riz, I wonder where the birdies is?
They’re all bonking in the bush at the end of our garden. The smutty goings on resembles a Roman orgy. I would advise anyone passing nearby to please avert their gaze, it’ll just scare them, especially the sensitive ones. It would appear that the dividing fence between the neighbors and us is now a red light district for our feathery chums. Imagine a back alley in Amsterdam with fewer neon lights and more tits on display.
THAT is our garden.
I should charge admission to the starlings who clearly are just here on a stag doo. Even the resident squirrel takes the long way round. He would clearly rather gobble his nuts in piece and who can blame him. Sparrows aren't very romantic. There are no fine wines and Belgian chocolates. There are no candle lit meals in posh swanky restaurants, not even a takeaway and a bottle of Lambrini. There’s just a lot of noise and feathers with girl sparrows being wooed with boy sparrow chat up line invitations to “sprig my millet”. Utter filth.
I thought I lived in a posh part of suburbia but the feathered foulness outside would beg to differ. If there is such thing as a bird benefit office, then it’s going to get really busy in a few weeks time. Mental note: must follow some pregnant sparrows one day to see if they fly back towards the estate and or Liverpool.
On a happier note the sun came out today. The locals ran for cover thinking the sky was on fire. There was a strange hissing sound as people began to dry out. Natural selection has meant that people in 'tut north' have evolved gills and the ability to see in really low light conditions. It’s quite impressive until you watch them cower at the sight of the fiery sky orb, or ‘hot moon’ to use its local derivation. The braver northerner will actively seek out the ‘squinter ball’ and expose their flesh in an act of defiance. The skin of the Caucasian northerner is so white that initially at least all of the suns rays are reflected back into space thus helping to combat climate change. However after just a few minutes of ultra violet the white flesh turns crimson and then red severely hampering the reflective capabilities. A red colour change is always fiercely resisted by the majority ‘true’ northern folk. They have a natural affinity with being pale blue and lack luster. You know these people as Manchester City supporters.
Several consecutive days of sunshine are dangerous as most of the reservoirs/puddles empty into assorted super soakers and leaky paddley pools across Lancashire and Yorkshire. A week of warmth will cause drought conditions and epic queues in supermarkets with shoppers ramming trolleys full with bottled Buxton water. It’s exactly the same stuff that the people of Buxton have in their taps only about hundred times the price. The fire brigade will be on constant BBQ watch. A&E will be out the door with lobster cases. After-sun, aloe vera and minor burn creams will have to be flown in on Hercules transports to top up supplies.
What would happen if the sun came out for a month?
Well try to imagine Dante’s inferno with slightly more empty Stella cans and burnt sausages and you’re on the right track.