Above your head but
below your notice, they shit
bloody everywhere.
Feathers grey, dirty,
diseased, but still such a
bloody nuisance.
Crapping on heads and
clothes, ruins your day. Good luck
my bloody arse.
I know their secret.
Plotting away. Conspiring.
Those bloody schemers.
If they seize the means
of production, we’re screwed.
Bloody socialists.
Bodies in ours streets,
pigeons in our parliament.
A bloody nightmare.
Well, I for one, won’t
let them. I won’t stand for it,
you bloody bastards.
I have to stop them.
Desperate measures, if
I bloody well must.
Going to Trafalgar.
A bag of poisoned feed.
Bloody well teach them.
Strike at their heart.
Before it’s too late. I’ll be
a bloody hero, right?