Fed up with that flea-ridden varmint, Dave Spiky. He won't budge from my lovely nest. I've been reduced to kippin' on 'Arry Alsatian's sofa, which isn't ideal, to say the least. 'Arry's breath could strip paint at 10 paces, it's so 'orrible. Must be all the bones he scoffs.
I rang the Pest Control people, but as soon as I said I was a pigeon, for some reason they thought I was taking the mickey.
If this goes on much longer, I'll start wasting away.
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