This is me, myself, I, Wayne-O Pijin!
I have hacked into No-Wings Jenkins' website with a dot-dot machine pillaged from the BBC.
That Jenkins was a traitor anyway.
He appeared to be sympathetic whilst giving away my secret location up Morlais Castle.
Shortly after, we were raided by the SAS ( Special Avian Service) , but managed to fight them off using our eye-ball pecking manoeuvres.
I am here to announce that the RAF ( Revolutionary Avian Front ) have won yet another victory , this time in the heart of seagull territory in Cardiff.
The gulls even came to our assistance to enable our safe escape.
This was another blow against the Three Feathers and their hideous regime.
It all came about when I happened to be peering through the window of a small bungalow in Winchfawr, near Merthyr. Inside was a large TV screen and an elderly No-Wings who was straddling a velvet shopping trolley and shouting 'Wa-les! Wa-les!'
On the screen were two pigeons discussing international rugby and getting very excited about the forthcoming game between Wales and the Baa-baas ( who I assume to be a team of sheep).
It seems unfair to me that No-Wings should take on the Woolly Things, but I was more concerned with the fact that these two fellow pigeons were being used and mocked in such a way.
The man in the bungalow even stopped his antics with the trolley to yell at the screen - ' Bloody pijins! I seen it all now!'
Our plan was to attack the BBC ( does it stand for Barbs, Barns and Cages? ) when they were out in the streets of the capital before the game.
However, I came across none other than Arty, the very seagull whose bravery had helped us all break out of Merthyr police station cells. He informed me that they always interviewed inside the stadium (called Principality) before the match began.
( Incidentally, as we flew over Cardiff streets we actually saw the very sheep whom the Wales rugby team were due to play.....and every one was inflatable!).
Inside the vast stadium - modelled apparently on an ocean liner - our seagull comrades lined the tops of stands, ready to help.
Our tactics were ones of complete surprise.
Under the guidance of Zen Buddhist pigeon Al-Wings Jones we lived purely for the MOMENT.
Our subtle plan was that we had no plan.
A new comrade in our ranks Andflew Pecker was especially keen to show his worth and soon launched himself at one of their microphones ( I think he believed the furry covering to be a rodent ).
It was then that I spied them : the Three Feathers!
They were on the red jersey of a slightly balding and grinning No-Wings with an accent not to be heard even in Lakeside Gardens. The interviewer referred to him as 'Prince'.
I summoned up all my energy and rage and flew straight at that badge.
It was then that all hell broke loose. It was worse than Greggs when the College students were released at lunchtime. As if from nowhere, many burly No-Wings emerged and tried to grab hold of me.
The No-Wings called 'Prince' howled like they do at closing time outside a pub called the Wyndham. His swearing was rather strange - 'Drat that bird! ' and 'Oh bother that pesky pigeon!!'
( All this has been put on You-Tube by a groundsman and has since gone viral).
At this point, I thought I was going to be captured. My beret and dark glasses fell off and if it hadn't been for a swoop of seagulls, I would now be back in jail instead of a highly secret location nowhere near Redhouse clock tower.
As to Barbs. Barns and Cages....they know this is only the beginning. The revolution will happen : not tomorrow, not next year, but on Midsummer's Eve 2020, at midnight.
WAYNE-O'S BIRDIFESTO
The revolution is coming
all No-Wings
hide inside your buildings!
It's not round the bend,
but look to the skies
guano not bombs will fly.
Birds are everywhere,
are opening their cages
and spreading their wings.
No more of your spikes,
your poisons,
your false prophets of Greggsism.
No more will we scavenge,
clean up your droppings,
forage among your wrappings.
Birds are gathering,
hear it on the rooftops,
the avian revolution's coming!
I have hacked into No-Wings Jenkins' website with a dot-dot machine pillaged from the BBC.
That Jenkins was a traitor anyway.
He appeared to be sympathetic whilst giving away my secret location up Morlais Castle.
Shortly after, we were raided by the SAS ( Special Avian Service) , but managed to fight them off using our eye-ball pecking manoeuvres.
I am here to announce that the RAF ( Revolutionary Avian Front ) have won yet another victory , this time in the heart of seagull territory in Cardiff.
The gulls even came to our assistance to enable our safe escape.
This was another blow against the Three Feathers and their hideous regime.
It all came about when I happened to be peering through the window of a small bungalow in Winchfawr, near Merthyr. Inside was a large TV screen and an elderly No-Wings who was straddling a velvet shopping trolley and shouting 'Wa-les! Wa-les!'
On the screen were two pigeons discussing international rugby and getting very excited about the forthcoming game between Wales and the Baa-baas ( who I assume to be a team of sheep).
It seems unfair to me that No-Wings should take on the Woolly Things, but I was more concerned with the fact that these two fellow pigeons were being used and mocked in such a way.
The man in the bungalow even stopped his antics with the trolley to yell at the screen - ' Bloody pijins! I seen it all now!'
Our plan was to attack the BBC ( does it stand for Barbs, Barns and Cages? ) when they were out in the streets of the capital before the game.
However, I came across none other than Arty, the very seagull whose bravery had helped us all break out of Merthyr police station cells. He informed me that they always interviewed inside the stadium (called Principality) before the match began.
( Incidentally, as we flew over Cardiff streets we actually saw the very sheep whom the Wales rugby team were due to play.....and every one was inflatable!).
Inside the vast stadium - modelled apparently on an ocean liner - our seagull comrades lined the tops of stands, ready to help.
Our tactics were ones of complete surprise.
Under the guidance of Zen Buddhist pigeon Al-Wings Jones we lived purely for the MOMENT.
Our subtle plan was that we had no plan.
A new comrade in our ranks Andflew Pecker was especially keen to show his worth and soon launched himself at one of their microphones ( I think he believed the furry covering to be a rodent ).
It was then that I spied them : the Three Feathers!
They were on the red jersey of a slightly balding and grinning No-Wings with an accent not to be heard even in Lakeside Gardens. The interviewer referred to him as 'Prince'.
I summoned up all my energy and rage and flew straight at that badge.
It was then that all hell broke loose. It was worse than Greggs when the College students were released at lunchtime. As if from nowhere, many burly No-Wings emerged and tried to grab hold of me.
The No-Wings called 'Prince' howled like they do at closing time outside a pub called the Wyndham. His swearing was rather strange - 'Drat that bird! ' and 'Oh bother that pesky pigeon!!'
( All this has been put on You-Tube by a groundsman and has since gone viral).
At this point, I thought I was going to be captured. My beret and dark glasses fell off and if it hadn't been for a swoop of seagulls, I would now be back in jail instead of a highly secret location nowhere near Redhouse clock tower.
As to Barbs. Barns and Cages....they know this is only the beginning. The revolution will happen : not tomorrow, not next year, but on Midsummer's Eve 2020, at midnight.
WAYNE-O'S BIRDIFESTO
The revolution is coming
all No-Wings
hide inside your buildings!
It's not round the bend,
but look to the skies
guano not bombs will fly.
Birds are everywhere,
are opening their cages
and spreading their wings.
No more of your spikes,
your poisons,
your false prophets of Greggsism.
No more will we scavenge,
clean up your droppings,
forage among your wrappings.
Birds are gathering,
hear it on the rooftops,
the avian revolution's coming!
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