Friday, 27 January 2012

Wax-Paul McCartney and-Wings.

I saw some Waxwings along Sainsbury Way,
It looked like they were here to stay,
Oh, I couldn't believe it yesterday.

there were half the birds there used to be,
Some of them flew off right over me,
Yesterday they went suddenly.

Why they had to go I don't know, they wouldn't say,
Perhaps there was something wrong how I long for yesterday.

I went home Boothferry Road way,
Somebirdsflewoverthecarbutwhattheywere I couldn't say,
More Waxwings yesterday?

Erm, Yester-ding,
Maybe they were some more Waxwing?
So I stopped but they were just Redwing,
I am shite at birdwatching.

Lennon/McCartney/Q circa 1964.

I really did. From the car I got onto half a dozen distant things that were flying a bit like Waxwings. I pulled up and noticed a big fuck off bush full of berries! Ah, but not the right berries for Waxwings. Sure enough around 35 Redwings flew into the single bush and gorged upon God's own juicy red berries.

Coming next week, Bean Goose misidentification to the tune of Smack my Bitch Up.

Anyway, how are you all? Oh, I'm good thanks.


Friday, 20 January 2012

East Yorkshire birding.

A great day's birding the other day. Started life at Bempton with a close encounter with the male Desert Wheatear. After two failed attempts I just walked up and there it was! The aborted attempts were a dull long wait, to no avail. So for it to give itself up like it did today was pretty unexpected. It showed down to 5 feet! At one point the little blighter was on the arable field and just decided to fly the 50 yards straight at the assembled throng and pitch down 5 feet away. Strange behavior really. But sweet as a fucking nut. It was still in heavy moult, particularly on the scaps on it's left hand side but a real cracker. Stonking, etc... I followed this up with a Yorkshire tick no less! A bit of a tart really but the Cattle Egret near Tophill took me to 397 for Yorkshire only 3 off the magic 4 bastard hundred! But that includes Sibe Chiff which I really believe should be split but isn't yet. A ring tail Hen Harrier quartering the fields near the Egret was a bonus. I saw all sorts of stuff. But, as usual, I can't be arsed to tell you. Fieldfares, Redwings, shit like that. You know what I'm talking about.

Now that was sensible wasn't it? All about birds and that. Surely that's not what you want?

Is it?


Thursday, 19 January 2012

You heartless bastards

After nearly 200 hits after the Save the Bulbul campaign, the votes are in! And with an overwelming majority of 1 vote to nil in favour of letting the fucker fry, the fucker has...indeed...fried. Big Neilo, who was 6 foot 4, 17 stone and black before he got badly, said that his father in law shouted 'Aloy!' has he devoured the poor baby marinated deep fried bald baby Bulbul whilst watching ferang football and drinking beer Chang. Big Neilo, who was 6 foot 4, 17 stone and black, actually knows the anti hero that is No Neck Ted off Benedict. No Neck Ted off Benedict was THE mother fucker NOT to fuck with back in our day. Where we lived, in Hessle, No Neck Ted off Benedict was almost like the Kaiser Souse of our time, a mythical arch villain, from the neighbouring estate which the Hessle boys had much trouble with, Boothferry Estate, also known as Corned beef Island. Big Neilo, who was 6 foot 4, 17 stone and black before he got badly once told one of the Hessle boys that No Neck Ted was after him. Due to an amphetamene problem the person in question has never been the same again. Some say he's Hungarian, and came home one day from his 6 to 2 shift at Bird's Eye to find his son tied up, his wife raped and to show what real will is, he shot his wife and kids and some of the Hungarians then killed their families, their friends, friends of their families, burnt their homes to the ground. He let one of them live to tell the world of No Neck Ted. No Neck Ted, some say got the name due to having no neck and being called Edward. He did business from deep in the stronghold of Boothferry Estate, Benedict Road. Here he sold, they say, pink champagne, fake Adidas Colorado's and sold steel to Iraq for nuclear reactors, a very profitable venture I'm sure you'll agree gentlemen. No Neck Ted is the mythical Anti Hero that keeps this town in check even though no one has ever seen him. No one needs to. Big Neilo who was 6 foot 4, 17 stone and black before he got badly reckons that if No Neck Ted ever raises his head, you'll never see or hear of him again. And like that, pffft...

He's gone...


Tuesday, 10 January 2012

Save the Red Whiskered Bulbul

There's a cage. In the cage is a bird. The bird is a Red Whiskered Bulbul. It was a wild bird. It is about to be killed, well plucked, spiced and deep fried. By Big Neilo's father-in-law. Big Neilo used to be 6 foot 4, seventeen stone and black. Before he got badly. Big Neilo's father in law is Thai. The area where he lives is very poor and the people there simply have to eat what they can. Songbirds are important to their diet especially Big Neilo's father in law when he's had a few Beer Chang and wants a spicy deep fried snack. As shocking as this may seem to you this is a way of life and it won't change. Food is food. Protein is protein. And Red Whiskered Bulbuls are beautiful when rubbed in a dry marinade of galangal, fresh chilli, lemongrass and a squeeze of lime on a Saturday afternoon watching the Ferang football. Here's where YOU can help this barbaric snack from happening. Big Neilo has said that if 1000 of you sign an online petition through my site he will have the Bulbul freed back into the wild instead of becoming a deep fried salty spicy sour snack for Big Neilo's father in law.

As I have a readership of almost 4 I think perhaps 1000 is perhaps excessive. Maybe 10? Let's go for 10. To leave a vote simply leave a comment on this post saying 'Save the Bulbul'. If you don't want to save the Bulbul leave one saying 'let the fucker fry'. This is real by the way. Big Neilo is out there now and will be monitoring the votes. If it reaches 10 he'll set it free and take a photo of it's release. I dare say he'll maybe buy father in law a cooked chicken as recompense. Again this is real. He really has got it in that cage right now! And he's getting hungry....


Friday, 6 January 2012

John Craven's Newsround

Straight over to big John Craven:

Shocking news from the celebrity world this week as Sarah Harding has been involved in a fight with her boyfriend. What would you do with Sarah Harding eh? I'd have a right fucking go on that.

Sarah had claimed that he 'grabbed her by the throat' but Newsround now believes that he SWUNG her round by the TITS before KICKING her in the PISSFLAPS and ended by BLOBBING in her EYE and HAIR. Which, to be fair to him is pretty much what I'd have done to her.

Sport news now and Manchester United fans are getting ready for their last game of the season... on Sunday.

And finally, Q has been looking into the taxonomic status of Siberian Chiffchaff lately. It appears that the race tristis has genetic differences between 1.5-2.0% in comparison to albeitanus and collybitta however they're fucking spelt. Q believes this difference is very significant, some separate species only having some 0.2% digression betwixt each other. Hybridisation has not been found to occur betwixt tristis and Albertinius or Collybeta, the race has different vocalisations, separate range and does not respond to the calls of either albinterinius or Collinsbitter. In summary, Q thinks this should be treated as a separate species and is adding it to his British and Yorkshire lists. So there. He recognises that the BBRC and the BOU have far, far better birding knowledge than himself but, on this occasion, Q thinks there is enough evidence to tick the fucker. Q also realises that the UK400 club has split this but added 'fuck me, Evans has got 7 species of fucking Redpoll on his list so he's just an in-it-for-the-numbers that splits anything sort of bloke. In a cheeky George Michael kind of way'.

He's ticking Sibe Chiff. It's his list. What do you lot think of that?

Join me on Sunday when I'll be doing Countryfile and looking at whether the green belt is just for show, and whether or not all waterbirds should be shot.


Thanks for that John. But how come you try to style your hair like Mark Lawrenson?


Thursday, 5 January 2012

Did anyone see the Supergran episode this morning? Jesus H Christ it was good wasn't it? Supergran investigated a school dinner money racket which was run by the school bully. He basically took the dinner money off the boys and spent it on cheap cider and smack just like Zammo, and fingered all the girls. What the fingering had to do with the story I don't know, but Supergran got onto it and met the bully right where he did his dirty work - behind the bike sheds. Sheds has an amazing selection of options on predictive text, sheer, sides, rider, sheep, rides, and of course sheds. Bike has less options. How very fucking interesting. Supergran came strutting from behind them there bike sheds like she couldn't stop a pig in an alleyway. 'Did you stop that bully taking the poor boys dinner money Supergran?' Said Mr Mavity the headteacher. 'Did I fuck' said Supergran 'but I'm meeting him again same time tomorrow!' Good old Supergran. Hang about der der, look out, for Supergran. I wonder what the H stands for in Jesus H Christ? Hairy? Maybe, cos he was a right hairy fucker I've seen the photos. Anyway Happy New Year and all that. How's the year list going? Me? Oh I've managed to reach the magical 18 already. I don't get out enough really. I'm sure you've already realised that because I always end up writing about the Professionals and bastard Supergran instead of tales of dawn til dusk stomping on the coast. Saying that, even when I have got something bird related to tell you like when I twitched the Western Sand I still end up talking shite instead of fine tooth combing the finer detail of 1st winter peeps. Maybe I should stick to talking shite. It's what you expect. Lets face it no one reads this to be enlightened, they merely read it to hear swear words like sphincter, balls and big black cocks interspersed with the odd birding record. So to fit in with this blog's style, here's today's post: Not much local apart from common waders and a few Pink Feet west. Have a fucking bit of that, cock suckers. Unsurprisingly, the word sphincter has no alternatives on predictive text.

Apparently the 'H' stands for Harold. Possibly. On a play on words from Hallowed. Again, apparently.