And, another thing..................

And another thing.......

The South-East of England is inundated with Green Parakeets. I mention this because I remembered your love of bird song.

These green parakeets came about after a breeding pair, or two, escaped many years ago. Now, we have huge flocks of them ram-raiding all over the place, eating everything in sight and acting like anti-social locusts suffering from the effects of speed or acid or some such. Plague proportions is the reported number.

Apparently, the numbers of them are such now, that they are posing a threat to the indigenous populations of birds in the UK, causing a decline in numbers to the point that they may well have already buggered off, for pastures new. This is true. I kid you not. When was the last time you saw a sparrow?

So, our Government, in its infinite wisdom, has declared that we can shoot them. Legally.

Hurrah!!!

Well... not quite. You see, even little Jimmy, who has a genuine plastic toy rifle, giving to him for Christmas, by his wizen old granny, so he can play Cowboys and Indians with his mates in the street, needs a licence. Anything more lethal than a spud-gun is considered to be a firearm and so, falls under the auspices of the cops. Failure to carry a licence will result in a large group of policemen, from Special Operations 15 (SO15. Armed response team), arriving at your door at the crack of dawn, or thereabouts, dragging you from your bed, having smashed your front door to smithereens with a battering ram and yelling at the top of their voices, in unison... ARMED POLICE. LAY DOWN ON THE GROUND ON YOUR FACE. While training several automatic weapons on your defenceless body in your PJ's. They do this several times, even though you are as flat as you could possibly be, face down and hoping the ground will swallow you up while you get trussed like an oven ready turkey, minus the giblets and self basting..... actually, in a situation like this, self basting is more than likely.

Anyway, suppose you have a licence.

These green parakeets have an erratic flight pattern. They are usually found at around 100 feet or so off the ground and travel at about 90 miles an hour, yelling their little lungs out. All well and good. A challenging target. But, the average peasant in this country has a thinking and response time of about three seconds.

(I think I will shoot those birds .................................................................Blammo! Where'd they go? ).

By which time, the canny birds are in the next county, terrorising the song thrushes, safe in the knowledge that the likelihood of being hit by anything more lethal than a stray bee, is very far removed.

So, what happens to these stray projectiles in their parabolic flight? What goes up, must come down, this could explain the huge deposits of lead being found in rural areas. Merely conjecture of course and nothing at all to do with pharmaceutical companies.

Anyway, as you are cracking open your second boiled egg and dipping your bread soldiers in the runny yolk, you may read in the paper that there has been a sudden and inexplicable rise in the number of light aircraft, including micro-lights, being shot down over parts of the UK. You will know why. The peasants are trying to bag a brace of parakeets for parrot pie... and missing.

And it is legal. Heaven preserve us!