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Posted on | February 24, 2006 | No Comments
Dirty Dave was unusually fidgety in Ron’s last night.
“What’s wrong with you?”, I asked.
“Well, on my home I saw a kestrel fly into the side of a building and it knocked itself out.”
“Riiiight. So you’re upset about the kestrel?”
“Well, not really. You see, I hate to see animals in pain or distress. Don’t you remember that time I adopted that family of otters?”
“Yes, they didn’t much enjoy living in your bath with a couple of old palettes for dam building.”
“Aye, the little cunts ate the door and then the floorboards before falling to their death.”
“I’m not sure throwing 5 otters off Howth Head is the same as them falling to their death. Anyway, about this kestrel.”
“Yeah, well it bounced off the building and landed on the grass in front. I went over and I could see that it was still alive but it was unconscious and fading fast.”
“So what did you do?”
“I gave it artificial respiration.”
“You gave the kiss of life to a kestrel?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Well, after a while it sort of coughed, took a look at me, ran along the ground and took off, flying unsteadily but flying nonetheless.”
“So it’s all good then. You saved the kestrel. Why aren’t you in good form?”
“I think I might have bird flu.”
“You daft cunt, you can’t get bird flu from giving the kiss of life to a kestrel.”
“Are you sure,? It’s just that last night I watched Desperate Housewives, I’m feeling broody and I have a massive goo on me to go shoe-shopping.”
“I hate you, Dave.”
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