Football Hooligans go Birding at Spurn.

Infamous football firm, Millwall, “The Treatment”, had a days birding at Spurn planned. For legal reasons and to protect their anonymity, we spoke with “Millwall Paul” but his real name is this: 

Arthur Jackson

32a Milton Avenue

Hounslow 

Middlesex.

(I know it’s Monty, thanks…)

Millwall Paul is one of the main faces of Millwalls firm, notorious from the late 70s through to the early 90s. He is a proper Cockerney Geezer, so we let Millwall Paul tell us of a terrific days birding on the Yorkshire Coast.

“We didn’t know what to expect. I facking kid you not. Mad Fizz had spoken with one of their lot and reckons they’ve got 50-60 good lads art. There’s four of us in a jam jar. We stopped at Watford Gap and stole all the banches of flowers thinking our treacles would appreciate them when we get in. Big John hasn’t even got a Mrs but stole some anyway. We pointed art he could’ve  half-inched something useful like a Pasty or other. Cant. 

We made Spurn at dawn, we was tooled up with binoculars, scopes and some really thick electrical cable cut into foot long pieces to use as a cosh on these nawvern cants. 

A Wryneck was showing in the triangle, so we wandered rarnd and found a tidy little mob looking through telescopes and binoculars. Who the fack are these cants? They had a few skinheads, a couple of tarts tagging along, Barbour jackets on, cam on then you mags…. We started singing “we are Millwow, super Millwow, we are Millwow from the Den” and ran at them, our scopes were getting in the way to be fair. We got right apto them and they stood their ground to be fair to em. We backed off. The skinheads were actually bald geezers in their 70s so they must be right tricky cants. We backed off and continued past them, we were facking artnambered, they were still watching the Wryneck, we sang Millwow songs and sharted “fack your Wryneck, you scraffy cants”.

We carried on towards the Warren. We got on a dark Wheatear, so we checked it for something rarer like a Pied or Black-Eared Wheatear. Big John got the tail pattern and we were all happy it was just an unusual Northern Wheatear. Cant.

Walking towards the facking Warren, a couple of Tree Pipits flew sarf. Cants. We got to the Warren and there was a tidy little firm scoping the Humber. “It’s facking Tottenham” said Big John. Cam on then you cants, and we ran at them shouting “Millwow”. They stood their ground. Respect. “Where you facking from?” I sharted. 

“Erm Rotherham” said an elderly lady.

“Facking Rotherham? You’ve got fack awl, you scraffy nawvern cants”.

“Would you like a slice of Bakewell Tart?” asked the elderly angel (cant). We accepted the peace offering, it was either kick their facking heads in or have a slice of Bakewell Tart. They were watching the waders and pointed art a nice Little Stint. Facking Yid cants. 

Innit.

At the Warren, there was a right facking mob. There was a Young Ornithologist’s Club arting. All young uns. “It’s their youth firm” shouted Mad Fizz so we all started sharting “cam on then you maggy cants, whilst half-hiding behind each other pushing your mate forward in front of you. “Cam on then” but the adult supervisors just stared at us and explained they were watching a ringing demonstration and a couple of Brambling had been caught if we’d like to see? “FACK YOUR BRAMBLINGS YOU MAGGY CANTS” and we started pushing each other closer to the youth firm. “Where the fack are you from you cants!”

“Grimsby” said a polite yang cant. 

“facking cod heads? Don’t make me facking larf”.

We jogged on, screaming threats at the YOC members and their supervisors, clapping hands abav our heads, singing “millwow” as we went. The ringing geezer then brought art a nice male Brambling, so we turned rarnd and had a butchers at the cant. We started singing “we are Millwow, no one likes us, we don’t care, we are Millwow, super Millwow, from the Den” and the Brambling died of fright in the geezers hand. It mast’ve facking known we were Millwow. Cant.

The YOC didn’t want to facking know the scraffy cants. Facking mags. 

We did some birding, adding Redstart cants, Pied Fly cants, and a nice facking Bluethroat cant to the day list. Cants. 

We started to make are way owta the grarnd, back to the mowta. Some stragglers from their lot were sat outside Crarn and Anka pab. Pretending to jast enjoy their drinks and facking cakes sat outside the battle cruiser. Facking didn’t wanna know did they? Cants. 

We bamped into some Stoke cants at the services but that didn’t cam to anything eiver. Cants. 

A great day art, Big John posted on his birding blog the details of the birding, Redstart cants and that, but also powstid on his hooligan blog that we facking turned the cants ova. Facking maggy scraffy norvern cants”. 

Thanks to Millwall Paul for a terrific write up of a terrific day out.

Coming  next week on Q@Spurn: West Ham turn up at Flamborough mob handed and set the windmill on the crazy golf in Brid alight. 

Cants.

…..