Accidental animal cruelty
I once invented a brilliant game - I'd sit at the top of the stairs and throw cat biscuits to the bottom. My cat would eat them, then I'd shake the box, and he would run up the stairs for more biscuits. Then - of course - I'd throw a biscuit back down to the bottom. I kept this going for about half an hour, amused at my little game, and all was fine until the cat vomited. I felt absolutely dreadful.
Have you accidentally been cruel to an animal?
This question has been revived from way, way, way back on the b3ta messageboard when it was all fields round here.
( , Thu 6 Dec 2007, 11:13)
I once invented a brilliant game - I'd sit at the top of the stairs and throw cat biscuits to the bottom. My cat would eat them, then I'd shake the box, and he would run up the stairs for more biscuits. Then - of course - I'd throw a biscuit back down to the bottom. I kept this going for about half an hour, amused at my little game, and all was fine until the cat vomited. I felt absolutely dreadful.
Have you accidentally been cruel to an animal?
This question has been revived from way, way, way back on the b3ta messageboard when it was all fields round here.
( , Thu 6 Dec 2007, 11:13)
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Tweeties Stuck in Car Radiator Grilles
There must be some 'ard as nails birds out there to actually stick, either that or they've been practicing their kamikaze tactics on behalf of the spare parts industry. Anyway...
M56 Westbound. Another hard day selling things to the population of Manc over, I am belting along in Lane 3, having got past Junction 7 (may it's name be cursed for all eternity.)
Empty ish motorway, shiny Merc. I am King of Road!
Vroom vroom. Radar detector in silent 'go like fuck' mode, gone past the usual pig-perches, so heavy on the loud pedal.
As I thunder in my lovely extender of trouser contents machine into the setting sun, I notice that I have company. Specifically Percy the Pigeon.
Percy has been enjoying a nice rest between the barriers on the central reservation. Maybe it's some kind of avant-garde pigeon hangout for the more sophisticated flying rat.
Percy decides it's time to head for home, and bidding his cheery farewells to the safety of the barriers, he casually takes off with a lazy FlapFlappityFlap. To emerge 15 feet in front of the C-Class now achieving near-Mach One, at radiator height.
The pilot of the overpriced Germanic death machine has little time to do other than utter a little word or two as he realises he can't swerve or the Volvo in Lane 2 will have a very bad day, so with no more than a slight deceleration (nearly collecting another motor up the chuffer even so) we have car/pigeon interface.
"FlapflappityflapSHIIIIIIIIITKERRUNCHwhoooshshwishhhhhhSHIIIITTHUMPwhhoooooooooshSPLAT"
Percy collects firstly the radiator grille, before being blown by the slipstream,sans some feathers and with a confused look, up the bonnet.
The windscreen acts like a ski-jump, and old Percy takes to the skies once more, trailing feathers in a nice ballistic arc. To land perfectly on the windscreen of the following car, to ski-jump once more before being terminally splatted by a third.
Sorry Perce, I did try.
Having said that, it cost about £50 to fix.
Flying Git.
( , Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:09, 1 reply)
There must be some 'ard as nails birds out there to actually stick, either that or they've been practicing their kamikaze tactics on behalf of the spare parts industry. Anyway...
M56 Westbound. Another hard day selling things to the population of Manc over, I am belting along in Lane 3, having got past Junction 7 (may it's name be cursed for all eternity.)
Empty ish motorway, shiny Merc. I am King of Road!
Vroom vroom. Radar detector in silent 'go like fuck' mode, gone past the usual pig-perches, so heavy on the loud pedal.
As I thunder in my lovely extender of trouser contents machine into the setting sun, I notice that I have company. Specifically Percy the Pigeon.
Percy has been enjoying a nice rest between the barriers on the central reservation. Maybe it's some kind of avant-garde pigeon hangout for the more sophisticated flying rat.
Percy decides it's time to head for home, and bidding his cheery farewells to the safety of the barriers, he casually takes off with a lazy FlapFlappityFlap. To emerge 15 feet in front of the C-Class now achieving near-Mach One, at radiator height.
The pilot of the overpriced Germanic death machine has little time to do other than utter a little word or two as he realises he can't swerve or the Volvo in Lane 2 will have a very bad day, so with no more than a slight deceleration (nearly collecting another motor up the chuffer even so) we have car/pigeon interface.
"FlapflappityflapSHIIIIIIIIITKERRUNCHwhoooshshwishhhhhhSHIIIITTHUMPwhhoooooooooshSPLAT"
Percy collects firstly the radiator grille, before being blown by the slipstream,sans some feathers and with a confused look, up the bonnet.
The windscreen acts like a ski-jump, and old Percy takes to the skies once more, trailing feathers in a nice ballistic arc. To land perfectly on the windscreen of the following car, to ski-jump once more before being terminally splatted by a third.
Sorry Perce, I did try.
Having said that, it cost about £50 to fix.
Flying Git.
( , Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:09, 1 reply)
Heheheheheh.
Flying Git. Now I think I know what to name my next bird...
( , Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:31, closed)
Flying Git. Now I think I know what to name my next bird...
( , Mon 10 Dec 2007, 17:31, closed)
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