I'm walking to work at 8:30am, the air is cold but lacks the crisp edge that rural air has in the morning. I'm wearing black trousers and a white shirt under my trademark long black coat, and Iā€™m striding purposefully along in my big black boots. I would probably look good if not for my fat face, dorky hair and out of date glasses. As I walk I cross path with a swarm of pigeons fighting over the end of a loaf of bread, I stride through them and all but one explodes up in to the air with a an immense cacophony of beating wings.

All but one, the last pigeon stumbles back and looks up at me, is it angry, its it proud, is it to dumb to fly away?

So I look down at this lone bird and say ā€œget with the program, pigeonā€ and there was the sound of a single pair of fluttering wings.

True story

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