The Birds!!!!

Great shows this week Kid. All dealing with important community issues and lost dogs. What is the greatest danger to society today? YES!, you're so right, crows scratching at windows early in the morning. That poor man. That poor, poor man. I could hardly sleep last night thinking about him. I could see him, sitting grey faced on the edge of the bed at four o'clock in the morning. Listening, ever-listening. THEN! the scratch, scratch, scratch, of crows claws on glass. He nudges his wife with a broken stick and screams. "Mildred, Mildred, the crows, THE CROWS!!!" A crying, talking, sleeping, walking nightmare with Hitchcockian overtones. (Not undertones-overtones) Mildred hits the quivering wretch over the head, with the empty po and yells, "Mien Gott, it's always crows with you! Go back to sleep or I'll kaput you!" What is the poor man to do? Faced on one side by the ever scratching crows and on the either side by a German wife with Nazi tendencies? "Tommy," I said to my cat, "Why do the crows scratch and scratch at that poor man's window?" "It's his own fault," said Tommy. "He built his house right slap dab in the middle of the crows' flight path. What he must do, is open the front windows to let the crows into his house and then open the back windows so they can continue on their flight path." "Simple!" I cried, pointing to myself in the mirror. "Simple and-sorted!" Tommy looked all around and whispered, "That man is lucky it's only crows that are bothering him, it could be--OWLS!" "What would the-OWLS do Tommy?" I said. "Never you mind," said Tommy. "I have seen men, aye-and indeed-women when the OWLS were finished with them and it was not a pretty sight. It was not a pretty sight," I tell you. "Beware of the--OWLS!"

Later that day, Tommy, I and Tubby Nolan were skipping with a high voltage cable in front of the house. Before Tubby got electrocuted in the fork, Tommy said to me, "Do you want to know something about-hair?" I pondered, ruminated and replied, "Yes Tommy, I would like to know something about-hair."

Tommy looked at me-straight in the eye and said, "It's never too young to go grey and it's never too old to go-blonde" "A Universal truth," I muttered. "All my life I have been searching for a Universal truth, not knowing that a Universal truth was under my nose all the time." "Tommy," I said "How do you know if a girl is a natural blonde?" Tommy smiled and said "Easy, what you do is........"

The sound of a giant lorry drowned out the rest of Tommy's reply so I guess I'll never know. Maybe it's better not to know. In my life I have had too many dreams shattered. I think I'll go to my grave, believing that all blondes are natural blondes. For the life of me, I can't think of any way that would separate the natural blondes from the bleached blondes, unless you were to... No, you couldn't do that! The police would be round before you could say, "Evening all, mind how you go."

All this and more have I seen as I sat up with Lynda Byron's rooster. The poor thing was under the weather. Lynda thinks it might be-egg bound!!!

Go now, but remember, beware of the--OWLS!!!