Joe what is you favourite childhood memory

I have many but one really sticks out

As you know I am a country lad and grew up loving all creatures

Even pikeys

Yes even pikeys

But I really just had one favourite

Was it the foxes

No

Sabre Tooth Tigers

You only find them in cities

Slugs

Not even warm

Then tell me Joe

Pigeons I loved pigeons

Uncle Frank raced them as a hobby

But they always either lost or fucked off to the South of France

I used to help him out with the housekeeping of his pigeons

And shared his excitement when they returned in one piece

One was even given to me

How nice

What did you call him

Rufus

Did he win any races

No

Farmer Jones shot him for shitting on his daughter on her wedding day

How sad were you angry

Yes very

What did you do

I burnt his barn down farm machinery and all

Was he pissed off with you

No he blamed God

What happened

He killed himself

Tractor off a cliff

I did not know that God could drive a tractor

No silly it was Farmer Jones who killed himself

But back to the question

My favourite childhood memory was Trafalgar Square with all its pigeons

There were so many different breeds

I was in heaven

The pigeons were incredibly tame and sat on your arms as you fed them

Daddy took so many photographs of Josie and I which I still have

What about when they shit on you

Did that upset you

I treated it as a blessing my friend

And then it happened

What happened

The pigeons and the chaps who sold the food were outlawed one day

By a cunt who said that they were like rats with wings

There was no argument

It was his way or no way

That was rather Stalinist

Need I say more

What was his name

I chose not to remember it Pete

I think it was Henry Morton Stanley or something

But I never forgave him

As only God forgives you know

Where is he now

In a place where I am pleased to find him

I forgot about him for many years

But recently read a story in a newspaper

Noting that he was suffering from a terminal disease

How dreadful for him

I still wake up crying

What disease is it

I am not sure of its name

Your brain goes to mush

Sufferers spend their days thinking that they are a rosebush

Or a slip road off of the M62

You are really cut up about it Joe

I am under the doctor

Lucky you is she attractive

Plain face but tits to die for

Yours

Mine is a faggot

That is bad luck

I have had a painful boil on my arse

But prefer the pain to visiting Dr Julian

Do you want me to look at it

I thought you would never ask

That is what straight friends are for

I agree

I might even shower

Before you examine me




Joe & Pete