CRUELTY TO ANIMALS: CRUELTY TO MAGPIES
by Debs Taylor
What I'm about to say may cause some offence to some people. But to hell with peoples' faux PC sensibilities.
Magpies are evil. And every single one of them needs to be hunted down and shot. Until dead.
Magpies? They are the harbingers of doom. They are the cause of all that is wrong in the world. They only ever venture out alone. Even magpies don't like each other. And the solitary magpie can only mean one thing. Sorrow.
Seriously, how often have you seen a pair of magpies? I'm not saying it doesn't happen that you may, by chance, see a couple of them passing each other as they go about their nefarious business. But more then two? Never. Hah. Girls, boys, silver, gold, secrets never to be told...
You'll not see such things, I say. Not in our lifetime.
There are a lot of magpies who live near me. I can see them from my desk. Obviously only one at a time. (The magpies that is - I try to colonise as many desks as I can.) If there are ever two magpies around, it's only because they are changing shifts.
They are stalking me. Taunting me. They like to watch me run through my incantations. My 'Hello Mr. Magpie's, my saluting, my twirling and whatever other wards I can cast every time I see one. The magpies love it, my friends hate it. However, this reaction has now become so ingrained that I break off conversations in order to run through an odd St. Vitus dance of a routine then carry on where I left off without a pause for thought.
The magpies adore it when I do this.
They are evil.
Anything shiny, they'll have. They are thieves. They are the Scousers of the bird world.
Without magpies there would be no more sorrow in the world.
I admit that maybe we might not have any joy, either. Which some people could consider to be a downside.
So I suggest we start gluing magpies together. That way, they will only ever be seen in even numbers. By my reckoning, that means a world of joy, boys and gold. Who would want to stop that bright new tomorrow? (Just so you know it's the R.S.P.C.B., that's who.)
Until I manage to infect all magpies with the lonely gene, I suppose I'll just have to suffer their mocking ways. My mad flailing does, at least, go someway to keeping me fit.
You never get these problems with crows...
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