Feather Adventures

I was driving home, listening to Vulture Club singing "Dove Hurts", thinking what a man of talons Bird George was. I was hoping to catch the end of the local football game (Penge vs Birdham) on Sky Sports. I was just chicken the time on the cock (to keep abreast of how long the final leg of my journey was taking) and keeping an eagle-eye on my wing mirror, hen things took a tern for the worse. The car ground to a halt. I was out of petrel, and there was nothing I could do about tit !

But there was; at the top of the hill I could see a Mobill station. I ran up the hill, puffin all the way, and went into the kiosk. Hardly taking in the man's name badge ("Mr Pelli") I croaked out "One gallon of petrel. I need it in a can and I need it now !"
"Alright alright" he reposted, "don't get in a flap. Keep your herron. Here's a jerry can. Here's another. Go and fill them from the pump."

I took the toucans and filled them nearly full. They took 1 litre each. I went back in to pay the man. "That'll be Ł10." he said, "take it or leave it."
"Ł10 ?" I squawked, "You're robin me !"
"Take it or leave it" he parroted.
"Why do you charge me so much ?"
"Beak oz Pelli can charge what he likes." was his careless reply.

Well, that ruffled my feathers I can tell you. I was sick as a Beavis and Butthead joke, but caged in. I had to swallow my pride, make the perchase and flaming go duck down the hill, feeling gullible and bird-brained.

I don't drive anymore. When I returned, my car had been hauled away by a crane. Ill eagle parking, apparently. And the game ? It was a high-scoring match, but birdham clawed their way to a 6-5 victory.

And I had been hoping for a Penge-win

Ah well, must fly.