Tony Broke

Bad news, I'm afraid. I'm flat broke - Doris wanted me to come round the sales with her, but I spent my last dosh on a sparkly bell for her cage.

My plans for world domination will have to go on hold for a while I get some more pocket money. Can't even borrow any - all the local cats I mugged are spent up after Xmas, too.

I saw a really cool prog on the telly last night. Some bloke found lots of gold rings and stuff while digging up his garden. This gave me an idea!

Only problem is, pigeons aren't really equipped to dig. I must have a word with the Mole...

It's Christmas!

On the first day of Christmas my budgie brought to me

12 Big Macs

11 sausage rolls

10 cheesy pizzas

9 Chorley Cakes

8 mince pies

7 scotch eggs

6 chip barmcakes

5 CHOCOLATE LOGS

4 jam butties

3 Christmas cakes

2 Cornish pasties

One massive trifle

Then this pigeon fell from the pear tree!

 

HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Problems, problems

Well, Cuddles has gone home to his Mum at last. Doris flew down to the local duckpond and tracked her down, so all is quiet in the garden again.
This is a difficult time for a plumpish pigeon who enjoys his food. Nuts or nibbles? Mince pie or Chorley cake? Chocolate log or Xmas cake? Or just scoff the lot (and get a tummyache, but who cares?)
The only thing I really have a Qualm about is Stuffing.

Who IS the Daddy?

Well, it’s hatched – and it ain’t no pigeon! Cuddles looks like some kind of duck to me! I reckon Big Vanessa was just playing a trick on me. But what do I do with him? Cuddles thinks I’m his Mum, and keeps following me all round the garden. I suppose I’d better try and find his real Mum. Just wait till I get hold of Big Vanessa!

Get Ready!

The egg's definitely cracking! It's opening! It's ...it's....

Who's the Daddy?

Help! Big Vanessa has served a paternity suit! Says she’ll set the Chick Support Agency onto me unless I cough up some lolly – and fast!
I know we had a bit of a ‘fling,’ but it never went further than billing and cooing.
The worst of it is, Doris Budgie believes her! She slammed the door in my face when I went round for my fried egg butty for breakfast!
What shall I do? How do I prove the kid ain’t mine?

Still Waiting

Bloomin' money spiders! Still no sign of the untold riches I expected.

I wonder if I should've bought a lottery ticket?

Quids in

I found two money spiders today. It said on the telly that some bloke won the lottery the same day he found a money spider, so it won't be long now before the doubloons start rolling in...

Home Sweet Home

Home at last. Dave Spiky was finally evicted/rescued by our wonderful fire service - turns out he was just too scared to climb down the tree again. I offered to boot Dave out of my nest and break his fall with Tiddles, but neither of them were impressed with my Cunning Plan.

I'm going to have a lovely sleep now...zzzzzzzzz...

Varmint

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.

Hello Dave

Help! There's a squatter in my new nest! His name's Dave Spiky, and he's a right prickly character! How do I get him out of my boudoir?

Bombed out

Haven't got time to talk much this morning. On Bonfire Night, I went to keep poor Doris Budgie company (she's terrified of fireworks.) We had a nice cuppa cocoa and some chocolate millet, while I tried to persuade her that fireworks aren't really scary.

Then when I came back home, I found some Baboon had let off a huge rocket nearby - and the tree with my cosy little nest in it had caught fire! There's just a smouldering heap on the ground now, and a smell of barbecued Chorley cakes (sob.)

So I must build a nice new nest before nightfall - I don't want to sleep rough with Tiddles on the prowl.

It's a dog's life, being a pigeon.

How to watch wildlife

And another thing...I was mooching along a country lane, tryin' to think up a new way of taking over the world, when I came across one of those twitcher blokes. Y'know, dodgy anorak, bird book with lots of pretty pictures, mad staring eyes glued to binoculars ...He was all excited coz he'd just spotted a pied jaffinch or something.

Now you would think seeing a pigeon of my unusual proportions would stop a twitcher in his tracks, but no, he just ignored me, jabbering to himself about warblers and whatnot.

So I said, "Aren't you going to note me down in your book?"

He just snorted.

"Look pal," I snarled, "I'm the biggest pigeon in the world, and I reckon that deserves a really big tick in your notebook."

I won't shock my Gentle Readers with his uncalled-for comments on the Noble Breed of Pigeons.

Let's just say he's now doing a Bill Oddie and looking for wildlife down the bottom of an eight-foot-deep muddy ditch.

Head first!

The homecoming

I came home last night to find the SAS had not only eaten all my Chorley cakes, but also the tin of king-size Mars bars I was saving for a peckish moment. Bloomin' cheek!

Had a good holiday, although as usual me and Doris Budgie ended up not speaking. I took her on the Ghost Train thinking it would be romantic, and hoping for some friendly billing and cooing, but no such luck. She had an Yvette Fielding moment when a green 'ghoul' popped up in front of the train and wouldn't stop screaming for an hour.

Back to the grind, I suppose. Time to check out all the bird feeders and see what goodies have appeared while I've been away.

On guard

Well, it's time for my autumn break. I was a bit worried about leaving all my ill-gotten gains (and Chorley cakes) unguarded all week, though (let's face it, Gorgeous Gary is too much of a big softie to be a proper henchman.) So I asked some hard mates to keep an eye on things and make sure Tiddles doesn't come prowling around. Curly, Larry and Mo are from the SAS (Special Attack Sheep) regiment and they don't take kindly to anyone butting in on their territory.
See you next week!

Disillusioned

I flew down to Tesco's and tracked down some Chorley cakes. They were smaller than I remembered. But you'll never believe this - they were made in East Kilbride! And the Eccles cakes I bought were made in Ardwick.
The whole world has gone mad.
If I discover next that Kendal mint cake isn't made in Kendal and that Victoria sponges aren't made by Queen Victoria I'm going to give up and stick to Empire biscuits.
Made in the British Empire, of course.

Harold

This is Harold Hairybreeks, who claims to be the world's hairiest sheep. He's from Denmark, and rowed over in his Viking longboat one evening to have drinks and nibbles with me and Doris. He's very partial to fish finger butties. (With peas.)

Where are they now?

I was sitting on top of the climbing frame, feeling peckish as usual, when I suddenly wondered why you never see Chorley cakes any more. (For soft southerners, a Chorley cake is like a giant eccles cake.) Or Dundee biscuits. Mmm- chocolately. And, for that matter, whatever happened to Aztec bars?

I think we, the public, have a Right to Know.

Top of the Pops

Me singing Molyan's song.
As you can see, I've gone completely potty about Molyan's song (see Molyan)
All my pigeon pals are crazy about it. I can't get the words out of my head. It's bound to go straight to Number One of the Pigeon Pop charts (not Number Two.)

Save Our Sydney

I see my chum Sydney the Giant Squid is in the news. (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/4288772.stm). (Me and Doris met him when we were on holiday in the Canaries.) Some nasty scientists trapped him with some big hooks and filmed him for FOUR HOURS struggling to break free. Did they help him once they'd finished their horror movie? No. He only got free once his poor tentacle broke off.
I was thinking of inviting him to stay while he recuperates. Lexica's only got a paddling pool, though - maybe me and Gertie could pool our resources. Gorgeous Gary suggested we sellotape up the garden shed and fill it with water, but I said that was a Stupid Idea. Even this pigeon knows you can't fit a 30ft giant squid into a 6x4 shed.
It would be really cool having him here though. The smirk on Tiddles Clutterbuck's furry face would disappear pretty quick if Sydney jumped out from behind the garden shed. That would stop him chasing pigeons and baby sparrows for supper...
I'm just off to find a Get Well card and write him an invite...