They're there.....The little f*****g sods are there.
I'm looking out of the window and typing this at arms length, which is difficult because I have relatively short arms: compared to your average primate, that is.
They are lined up on the far bank like the bloody cast of a Wallace and Gromit film. I'm sure the little bastards are made of clay. They're moving in stop frame animation the little buggers.
I'm getting really wound up about this now. I know for a fact that the feathered feckers will be giving it the berries at about midnight.
Will they be squawking for England, or is my mind becoming unhinged? If it is anything like last night, then I won't be getting any sleep. Bloody "Quack, quack. Grunt, grunt. Dribble, dribble. Poke, poke" Set of bloody perverts is what they are!
Wish I had a gun!.....hell's teeth, wish I had a reasonably sized brick! I'd show the lowlifes.
Honest, I kid you not. it is weird. I feel like I fell into a bloody Albert Hitchdick film. 'The Birds?' The bloody 'Mallards' more like it. They are standing there staring at me. It's f*****g unnerving. I can see the moonlight in their beady black eyes. Scheming little shits!
Where's the gin?