by Mik Bulk, runner-up of the month in the annual writer of the decade awards
The affectionate old birdy, famous for his or her wincing flapping, has won over the affections of the town’sfolk’s’ people over the years, with her carrion caw-caw.
The bird is oft seen hovering around and about and is known for a “little bit of cheek” as I was told by watchers/fans.
“She’s our brightest old bird,” spectator McDouglas Matthews told me as we shared an ice cream off the van.
His name, Marigold, wasn’t always held in such regarded esteem though, not by any chance.
In the 80s (1980s), during Harold’s now completely forgotten about “Fog Walkout”, the flying being came to symbolise, somehow, the wants and pains of the area’s shifty worker class, somehow.
One night, so it appeared, guns were fired at it, though some say that’s just “the” past talking.
Anyway and somehow, the winged pest (not my words) won over a section of the town’s adamantine class, and it was they that sold it to the masses as a “beak-on” (beacon) of hope to the sundry and everyone else.
The grey and white creature that soars so high will be celebrated on Laser Avenue by scores of well-wishers and those just curious to know.
I shall be there in tow also; so please, please tell me your stories after.
What is it like?
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