Drowned a pigeon
In Brighton. Me and a chum were just skimming pebbles etc as young lads do. And I picked up a big stone and decided to make a big splash in the sea with it. Wasn't actually aiming at the two pigeons sat not that far away from us, but as I threw said stone they both took off in flight. One of them flew straight into my rock and plunged into the drink. I waited about 3 minutes and it never came up again.

All this makes me sound about 7 but I was actually about 21. I think I went and watched Cooper Temple Clause that night.
( Captain Fabulous is what Willis was talking 'bout., Tue 11 Dec 2007, 17:00, 4 replies)

Stupid kid..er Dog..er Kid...
Dog was Rhodesian Ridgeback, I was small child.
I was sent to get dog out of garden, Dog played silly beggers.
I got 12 ft wooden pole used to hold up clothesline, and managed through childish luck, to clout dog on head to attract attention. Dog got cross and a second clout. It came inside.

Next Day , Dog was rushed to Vets to have Cancerous lump on head xrayed by worried Mum shaped owner at vast expense.

I kept schtum.

The Dog lived for another 16 years. Didn't die of cancer either...

The Cruelty? That Dog hated the Vets.
(Rockster77, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 16:59, 2 replies)

Well...
where do I start?

we used to have a hamster, survived ages actually, but this is a tale from one of the first few days we had him when we didn't know what to do with him...

Woke up one morning to find the hamster gone, the cage door wide open, and my sister absolutely distraught as it was officially her new pet. had a look all round the house but no sign of him, so we made sure we locked all the doors and windows and left for school/work/whatever my parents did at the time.

come back later that night to find Marbel (she was very definite on the spelling) back in her cage apparently unharmed but completely filthy.

(see where this is going?)

well, we decided he needed a wash and put him in the sink with the hot tap on, and loads of bubbles. when we decided it was deep enough we then proceeded to rub the soap in and wash it off. or we tried to...
what actually happened was when it got about as deep as we wanted we put our hands in and he shot off up my arm, causing me to grab him and throw him into the cage. hard. oops...

he wouldn't pay any attention to me for the next few days, and I'm pretty sure the red marks on his skin were mild burns from the water. I felt so bad, we never washed him again though.

I'm so sorry, you were such a good pet :(

obligatory length joke? bout 2-3 inches long as far as I can remember, was a while ago now though, don't quote me on that
(C.u.Later, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 16:57, Reply)

Foxy boxing

"I ran over a fox once, it didn't die though. I had to go back and finish it off with a jack"

"Ooh mince"

"I have just popped out"

"That was classic intercourse"
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 16:53, 1 reply)

Not so much unintentional as tangental cruelty...
...is those supercilious arseholes who choose names for thier pets that, rather than being an acceptable moniker for the animal itself, are in fact a reflection of thier own wit. Or more often, lack thereof.

The best example I've come across (though not here), twice in fact, is cats named Kat-Mandou. No. Stop. Teh Humour. My sides are splitting. I welcome other examples from my fellow B3TAns.

Seriously, I'd rather see an animal named something really unimaginative, like Hammy the Hamster, Moggy the Cat etc. At least that's a fucking name rather than some lame-ass attempt to stroke the owner's own ego. They'd have saved money and time, and possibly an animal's lifelong embarassment getting a hooker to do it instead.

/random rant
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 16:45, 12 replies)

Cute little deformed fish fry
Just to set the scene, my o/h (lets call him Jordanis3r) has very selective hearing (although when boobs or computer is mentioned in a sentence (not in the same sentence), well would you look at that, he hears every word!).

So, we have some fish that have mated & we keep the 'fry' in a separate tank. A few of them are a little deformed (mouths the size of pin points, hump backs and the like) but they are cute little buggers and I will not feed them to the larger fish as suggested on some fish sites.

Anywho, one is looking a bit peaky so I decide to put him in a glass bowl so that I can have a closer look and keep an eye on him - 'Jordanis3r' says I, 'I have put the little fish in a bowl on the window to keep an eye on him'.

'Ok' replies Jordanis3r.

Fast forward a few hours:

Jordanis3r: 'is there anything else to go in the dishwasher.....um....was there a fish in that bowl on the window?...'

Emphasis on the 'was' - he had poured the cute little deformed fishy down the plug hole.
(!sis, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 16:43, Reply)

Sunbathing?
Finally, after about 3 years of lurking, a QOTW I have a story for!

This is not my story, but the friend of a friend's story, which I know usually indicates an urban myth, but I've never heard this from anyone... if you have, feel free to tear me to shreds, and apologies for wasting your time.

This guy (let's call him Jim, because I have no idea what his real name is) was driving through a council estate just outside Reading when he saw a cat run across the road in front of him. Slamming on his brakes, he did his best avoid said cat, but nonetheless hit it, pretty much square on. He pulled the car over and got out to check how it was and there, sprawled across the pavement, writhing around in obvious pain, was this cat. Not wanting to see the creature in unnecessary discomfort, he decided to put the creature out of its misery and he went to his boot. He got out a spade (which is where, admittedly, I falter a bit with this story, as I've no idea why he would have a spade in the boot), walked over to where the cat was and (reluctantly, I would hope), smacked the cat one over the head. Alas, it just continued to writhe around, so he hit it again. And again. Until it was still, and about as dead as could be.

"What the fuck have you done to my cat?!" came a voice from a rather angry (read: foaming at the mouth) woman, advancing on him from a nearby front door. A little startled, the guy tried to explain, "Well I.. uh, I ran it over... but it was still alive... so I was just trying to... er... put it out of its misery..." Still screaming, the woman pointed at his car. "What's that then? What the fuck is that?"

Looking over at his car, he saw what she was pointing at. A bloody, furry mess, wrapped around his back left wheel.

"MY cat was SUNBATHING, YOU MALICIOUS LITTLE SHIT!"

From what I gather Jim didn't hang around all that long after that.
(Mr. In-Between has regretted posting this ever since, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 16:30, 8 replies)

Double standards?
I have heard of people calling their cats "Chairman Miaow", but so far, I have never heard of any cats called "Kitler" or "Pussolini". Why the double standard among murdering, authoritarian dictator-related cat names?
(lardaholics anonymous, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 16:21, 12 replies)

Keep the homefires burning...
K2K6's story reminded me of my grandads accidental slaughter of a bee colony.

It had been a mild summer and September brought a cold snap. Being old wrinklies and living in a small Kent village they had a real fire for warmth and duly Grandma assembled a fire ready to light that evening.

Grandad came in from the garden and feeling the cold decided to light the first fire of the upcoming winter.

Trouble was that summer some clever bees had decided an unused chimney was an ideal place to build their new home.

As the fire was lit the first smoke began to rise and nothing appeared unusual. To her credit 75 years of making fires had finely honed Grandma's skills the fire quickly grew until very quickly flames roared high into the chimney stack.

It was at that point the phone rang. It was the neighbour warning grandad not to go back outside on account of a HUGE swarm of bees currently flying around the roof of the house.

Grandad being the curious engineer he was went out the front door and accross the street and was able to witness the chimney literally spewing "little sparks and burning embers" which is transpires were actually burning bees and flaming bits of bee nest.

This understandably brought some concern and quickly he dashed back inside to put up a fire guard in the lounge and evacuate the room of grandma and cat. Lucky he did as minutes later the smoke dislodged what remained of the bee nest and a large clump about the size of a football fell down the inside of the chimney, landing in the fireplace and causing a huge cloud of ash and smoke.

The rug was never the same, however Grandad proudly told me all about how he accidentally killed a whole bee colony.

The next year they got the chimney swept before setting the first fire of the winter.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 16:04, Reply)

Word of Wisdom
"The man who carries a cat by the tail learns something that can be learned in no other way." - Mark Twain
(lardaholics anonymous, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 16:04, 3 replies)

Wasp cookery
Just remembered this one. May be a pearoast, so apologies if you've read this before.

As a teenager I found a wasps' nest in the eaves of our house. My dad was talking about getting the council pest control people to get rid of it. But I had a better idea. I knocked it down with a long pole and once the swarm of angry wasps had subsided a bit, I put the nest into an old biscuit tin, added a drop of paraffin and threw in a lit match.

Result - I win, wasps lose. But not quite. I discovered something about wasp reproduction.

While the papery wasp-nesty stuff burns very well and very cleanly, the main purpose of any nest, as I may have guessed had I thought about it, is to have a place to raise young. In the case of wasps, the papery stuff is formed into little cells, each of which contains a growing wasp larva.

And when they're cooked in a paraffin-fuelled inferno, they don't half stink!

Edit - the unintentional cruelty bit was burning their babies alive - I only meant to make them homeless!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 15:21, 10 replies)

My mum
nuked my dad's japanese fish when i was a kid. Giving them shelter from the harsh british sunlight by placing them in the shade.
On a microwave. 2 deep fried fish later.... ouch.

then we had (through several mis-sexings) 50 hamsters - albino russian dwarfs to be precise - cute as the day is long.
We obviously couldn't keep them all - very funny to watch 4 small furry marbles in a hamster wheel - and have the slowest spinning round until he'd smack one of the fastest.

But I digress - My dad gave 1 baby to a work colleague - who gave it to her little sister, 13 or so - who had just obtained a boyfriend. As she spoke to her boyfriend, hamster on her lap... she lay on her duvet... the white - furry - duvet on her bed until she finished the conversation - rolling over occasionally. Human steam roller... yeah...
(5ifty0, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 15:14, Reply)

pigeons
Now, I hate pigeons, but only one of the feathery bastards has ever managed to get any sympathy from me. This is the story of Basil.

Years ago me and 7 chums hired a barge for a week and much watery fun was had. We were all Able Seamen (careful!) by the end of our holiday and our record for negotiating a 60-foot narrowboat through a lock was something like, ooh, four hours. Anyway, having done the twelve millionth lock that day we were drooping over the side of the boat when J suddenly sat up and said "What's that?", and pointed to a sodden mass of feathery misery that was flapping about amongst all the empty coke bottles, bits of shopping trolley, rubber johnnies and other detritus the people of Warwickshire had donated to their once-beautiful waterways.

Well, we were all in a frenzy of excitement, as you can imagine, so we ordered J to fetch the sodden feathery mass from the water. He did, and returned triumphantly with it dripping from his slightly reluctant hand. It was a half-drowned pigeon with a hole in its heaving chest. All hands were busied fetching towels, bandages, newspaper, hot water and torn-up bedsheets. I made its bed out of an empty drawer and lots of newspaper. J being the James Herriot type he is bandaged it up so it looked like it was going to a fancy dress party as... well, as a pigeon in some bandages. We named him Basil and rang the RSPCA for some solid sensible advice. They were a bit non-plussed as to why we'd got a pigeon on a barge, but said to feed it water and grated cheese, preferably cheddar but absolutely not blue cheese under any circumstances. We showed the cheese to Basil who pecked miserably at it a couple of times before he fell asleep in his impromptu pigeon bed. Then we had a barbecue, got drunk and forgot all about him until the next morning when...

... that's right, Basil did not survive the night. We were very upset. Some of us cried. Except J, who said "Oh well", and shrugged philosophically before casually lobbing Basil into some random nearby bushes.

Was it cruel to keep Basil alive and make him eat cheese? Should we just have ended his misery there and then?

I just don't know any more.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 14:57, 2 replies)

Bluebottle torture
That reminded me of a story my father told me.

He was working as a draughtsman in a drawing office and for amusement the staff would fire elastic bands at one another. This soon ended up with people trying to shoot flies down in mid flight, but an office sadist had a better plan.

A bluebottle was trapped in a jar and knocked out with chloroform or somesuch similar solvent. While the insect unconscious, a secretary donated a strand of hair which was superglued to the back of the fly. The other end of the hair was glued to a paper dart made out of a rizla.

Upon recovery the fly was released and seemed none the worse for towing a small paper plane behind it.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 11 Dec 2007, 14:47, 3 replies)

do flies count?
Last night as I was making a lovely omelette I noticed that a big bluebottle was very interested in the hot blue hissy stuff coming out of the black round metal thing.

Did I shoo it away with a kindly tea-towel?

Did I fuck, I was concentrating on not burning the lovely omelettey goodness, and why was it still alive anyway? It's freezing cold!

I just watched as it nuked itself in the fly-Piper-Alpha, and there was no fly-Red-Adair or fly-burns-unit there to help it either.

Then I thought, Great! I've got a thing to post on the qotw. Then I thought, yeah, but it's rubbish. Then I thought, sod it, I'll post it anyway.

And here we are.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 14:31, 6 replies)

Squirrels are well 'ard
My stepdad's dad has still got scars from tangling with these evil little bastards. He was just out doing his gardening when one flew out of nowhere and latched itself onto his neck.

After considerable effort removing it, he proceeded to hit it with a shovel. Hard. This did not have the desired effect of making it dead, and just seemed to make it growl a lot and try and make my stepdad's dad bleed more.

Eventually he hit it so hard that it hacked the furry sod in half. He swears it was still clawing at him, growling until it finally died.

Don't mess with squirrels!
(BoneIdol, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 14:25, 6 replies)

Pigeon shit
OK, so this doesn't quite meet the criterion of the question, which asks for "accidental" animal cruelty - but I'll tell my story anyway.

When I was living at my father's house, we had a huge patio which would often be spattered by the droppings of pigeons which nested at the hopper at the top of the drainpipe. My father had tried repeatedly to block it off by rigging up wire mesh over the eaves - but the pigeons always found a way in.

One day I got pissed off with them - and the need to continually wash the patio with a waterjet - so I fashioned a pike: this was a copper pipe, with a sharpened nail attached to the end with a jubilee clip.

I went up onto the roof, and uncovered the slanting access point from the flat roof to the hopper. The pigeons flew away from the disturbance. However, having uncovered it I went back into the house and waited a while.

Later, when the pigeons had returned to their roost, I crept up on them stealthily - pike in hand - and jabbed it into the centre of the hopper...

Voilà! And that's the story of how I made pigeon kebabs.

Needless to say, our patio was a lot cleaner in the future.
(EuroSong I love horse meat: best of all the animals, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 14:22, 1 reply)

Alternative uses...
'Candy' the hamster

She was lovely, one of the sweetest pets I've ever had, never bit me once. However, this didn't stop me from regularly forgetting to shut my bedroom door while she was in her excercise ball. The momentum she had gained by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs was impressive.
Also, as a young girl, my mum would give me a list of things to do to help around the house. One particular day, my task was dusting. I'd always try to find places to clean that had gone un-noticed for some time, basically to avoid the criticism for not having done 90% of the aforementioned task. At the time we had a handrail for the stairs with about an inch gap between it and the wall. Of course, Candy was the ideal size to pop in at the top, and given a little encouragement (push), she'd slide all the way to the bottom. As long as i ran down the stairs fast enough, the results were fantastic - no dust and a cute little sneezing rodent.

I don't know that that was cruelty per-se, she did seem to get a certain level of enjoyment from it.

As an only child, with no friends living nearby, I also used my cuddly toys to play 'vets' with. My cat occasionally got in on the act, which unfortunately for her resulted in her whiskers...erm...'falling' off. I told my parents that they had gone bad and i had ordered some new ones for her. Hmmm.

I didn't realise it would affect her at all, untill she started walking into the sofa rather than behind it. And it made her look weird.

Finally, my boyfriends cat really enjoys being spanked ('cat' is not a code word...). More feline S&M than cruelty, but ho hum.

Length? Roughly 20ft from top to bottom :o)

*pop*...thanks for being gentle!
(baby_kitten was loving your work on, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 14:16, Reply)

hamster airways
I may have accidentally put my hamster on a bean bag, jumped on it, and watched it fly into the air. I may also have accidentally thrown large heavy objects onto said beanbag, to measure there effectiveness at propelling a hamster up into the air.

Strangely, this beanbag was never really used for sitting on, as it always seemed to be covered in hamster poo that passed out of his rectum mid-flight.
(thedailybilge, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 13:50, Reply)

A guy at school
who was in the special classes once told me that he got a swan caught on his fishing line, so to put it out of it's misery, he reeled it in with some difficulty, before trying to drown it.

He didn't know how strong swans were, and seemed to forget the fact that they are quite used to being under water.

Phase two of the mercy killing saw him make the enlightened decision to, perhaps in homage to some cartoon he'd unfortunately been exposed to, attempt to tie it's neck in a knot.

It took a long time to die, and ended up being kicked around the river bank in desperation.

So it was kind of accidental, in that it was supposed to be a mercy killing, when in actual fact it probably wasn't in a great deal of pain to begin with.
(revilomcc, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 13:49, 1 reply)

tamagotcheethingywhatchamacallit
oh... or cyberpet. i tried to get rid of the thing by leaving it in a friends coat (it was my little sisters - and slightly annoying).

over the next year or so, we played tamagotchee tennis making sure that whenever either of us left the others house, it was secreted in shoes, coats, under pillows, etc. we never fed or stroked it once.

finally i beat it to death while administering 'discipline'

damn right
(magictorch, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 13:36, 2 replies)

Does animal-on-animal cruelty count?
My family had ended up with an ugly-looking kitten (you know those mingingc cats that look like the pikey one from Atomic Kitten).

Maybe it was the resemblance the pop tart that prompted my father to get it spayed as quick as possible.

Now the other animals, dogs and cats, hated it and when it came back from the vets, groggy, slow with a side full of stitches, they decided it was time for The Chase. They ran the thing round the house, only briefly however because it decided to take refuge.

By jumping on my lap.

While I'm having tea.

After its stitches burst.

And its kitty guts are hanging out.


Finished my curry though. :D
(Medibot, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 13:18, 1 reply)

erm..
Rescued a bird from my cat only to have it fly straight into a window and knock itself out.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 13:13, Reply)

Hamster guts
My cousin sat on my hamster and its guts came out of its arse. Then my dad tried to push it back up with his finger.

Scarred me for a while, that one.
(MeteoriK, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 13:01, Reply)

An act of kindness gone wrong
Back in the late 80's, after having decided that life in the hall's of residence were not for me (mainly because I'd split with my girlfriend and she was still in the halls too) I decided to try flatsharing while still at college. A chance to prove to my family that I could be self-sufficient and responsible (hmm). So I moved in with a couple of mates, and all was well. After a year, I moved into another flat with some other people, but by this time was very deeply involved with my ex-wife, and so didn't really spend a great deal of time there.

It was around this time that I started keeping fish again, having done so when I were a nipper. Nothing fancy, just goldfish initially, starting with a solitary specimen in a bowl that my ex bought me, to buying a bigger tank that I could keep 3 or 4 in. It was a nice addition to my room, I thought. However, for the first few weeks I didn't have a filter, and so had to change the water on a weekly basis.

I had a friend at this time who was going through a bit of a rough patch, and so, because I was rarely at home, said he could doss in my room if he liked, as long as he fed the fish for me on nights I wasn't there. He agreed, and all was well.

Now this friend smoked, which I didn't object to. But he also smoked a bit of weed from time to time. The room I was using at the the time was the smallest in the flat, and he used to smoke in the room, but never thought to open the window for ventilation.

The result of this activity was that I came home one evening, to pick up some stuff and also check that the fish were OK. My friend was out, but when I went into my room there was a god-awful smell that I couldn't place. And then I saw it. The water in the fish tank was a disgusting greeny-brown colour, and the smell was emanating from there. Seeing that I had only changed the water less than a week ago, it couldn't have got that dirty so quickly.

It transpired that my friend's smoking habits had been the cause. Because there was no ventilation, the smoke just built up in the room and was somehow absorbed by the water in the tank. This quickly had the effect of clouding the water so much that you couldn't see a damned thing in there, whilst also releasing a noxious smelling odour that made you gag reflexively.

A quick water change and scrub of the tank rectified the situation, and the fish, amazingly, were fine. But I still feel an enormous surge of guilt when I think that my act of kindness to a fellow human being nearly resulted in the poor little scaly fellers contracting gill cancer from passive smoking.

I bought them a filter the very next day and asked my friend to keep the window open in future.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Tue 11 Dec 2007, 12:36, 1 reply)

Any psychologists reading?
What is it that leads supposedly balanced people to willfully torture animals? It seems we've all done it. Is it a power thing? It's really no surprise that humanity has condoned slavery and genocide against races perceived to be powerless - and will again. And again.
(frankspencer, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 12:19, 37 replies)

below the age of criminal responsibility
My introduction to the realities of where meat comes from started at a very early age. Whenever my dad took the car out he’d invariably take a gun or two with him just in case he came across any rabbits, ducks, geese or other animal that was too tasty to live.

No problems there. If you look at the amount of cruelty involved in a pack of sausages, or harvesting wildlife, the latter is by far the less of two evils.

My dad was a bit lazy, so his hunting consisted of winding down the car window, shooting the animal, and then sending me and my 7 year old twin brother* to collect the kill. In short he used us like human gun dogs.

Where it went wrong though is, although the majority of animals would be cleanly dispatched with the gun occasionally one wouldn’t be. And me and my brother didn’t really have the strength or the technique to administer a quick clean kill…..so we’d end up…sort of…basically…beating the injured animal to death. Some of my earliest memories involve bashing an injured squealing thrashing rabbit, shouting “die die die” . At the time it was just dinner, but looking back on it now I do wonder what the old man was thinking of.

*I’m the evil one by the way.


Edit:

Oh, and there was the method of castrating lambs that my Grandad used;

Make a small cut in the lamb, bring it up to your mouth, suck the testicles through the cut, bite them off and spit them out. Though I heard it said that some of the old fellas used to swallow them, I never saw it myself.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Tue 11 Dec 2007, 12:09, 3 replies)

Heron vs Koi Carp
A mate of mine's father is a very proud owner of a well stocked and very ornate Koi pond. About ten years ago, he'd spent several weekends digging the pond by hand and shovel, with painstaking attention being paid to the decrotative shrubberies and plants before the fish were introduced.

The pond was situated at the end of a long garden, surrounded by a rockery at the back and two tall hedges at the front, to provide some shade for the fish. The end result was impressive to say the least, a peaceful setting to watch the Koi carp swimming around doing whatever it is Koi carp do when they're hanging out with their closest drinking buddies.

However, over the preceeding weeks one or two koi had gone AWOL. The suspects were the family's well fed and rather rotund cat, otr something more sinister entirely.

The answer came one Saturday afternoon as mate's dad was behind the hedge digging the flower beds. He heard the gentle flapping of wings and instantly knew who the culprit was.

A passing heron had seen it's opportunity, noting the long garden and glimpse of the pond behind the hedgerows. It landed a few feet away from the pond and walked toward it as herons do to avoid panicking the fish. Slowly, it began to stalk it's quarry as it strode past the hedge...

*snatch*

It hadn't bargained on the irate pond owner who took the opportunity to grab said heron by the neck. My mate's dad works for the Environment Agency and knows full well that Herons are a protected species.

Holding the unlucky bird by the neck, he turned it's head toward him and looked the terrified creature in the eye.

"I can't kill you. But I can sure as hell put the fear of god into you"

Clearly Mr Heron's luck had run out. Instead of a very expensive meal, he was held firmly by the neck, shaken and kicked up the arse a few times before he was allowed to fly off.

The fish were never disturbed again.

[top tip - pond owners should stake some fishing line or wire around their ponds at roughly six inches about the ground. Herons haven't figured out how to negotiate this barrier as they stalk their prey once on the ground]
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 11 Dec 2007, 12:02, 4 replies)

more stairs
my now gone doggy was a sausage dog and so was very easy to throw about the place. as a kid the favourite game was to put him in a suitcase, close it up and drag him down the stairs one bump at a time. i imagined it was like some fun theme park ride for him. but i guess i know where he got his epilepsy and nervous expressions from now.
(bernards bitch don't want to be known for a oneliner, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 11:50, Reply)

Seagulls
I hate seagulls, vicious horrible birds. Frankspencer's post has just reminded me of one.

I used to employ this fisherman (call him E). Every year in Looe they have a trawler race and the boat just happened to be down there with E racing it on it. The race for non-owners is unofficial, so I didn't even know at the time they were entering.

Having won the race, they proceeded to get drunk, as fishermen do. Eating fish and chips on the quay, pissed, with all the summer holidaymakers, the seagulls take their opportunity to try and steal titbits of food from people eating fish and chips. E got very wound up about one particular seagull who wouldn't leave his food alone, so he enticed the gull to his side, grabbed its neck and pulled the head off and threw it in the harbour.

Well done I say :)
( Tiggy the diver, Tue 11 Dec 2007, 11:38, 2 replies)