Coincidence upon coincidence!
I met up with local working-class rhymester Dai Davies on Ron's bus , going up the hill to go back down again.
At first all he wanted to do was show me his brandnew shopping trolley which his beloved Iris Burnett had bought him for his birthday.
His Jack Russell Vlad was still sulking inside it and looking decidedly out of sorts.
The trolley was certainly a GTi version with side mirrors, bumpers and , best of all, a loud hooter which Dai demonstrated so Ron the Drive almost swerved into a hedge!
'Vlad still got the ump?' I asked.
'Aye! Ee still carn get is tiny ead round Iris see, but ee'll come round in time....she've begun t give im treats every time she comes round, so that'll work the trick eventually.......
Yer, ave a look at this poem Mike.'
He showed me his latest creation entitled 'The Great Eggscape'.
'Like it , eh Mike?......We ad a topic t write about animals and this appened. What a coincidence,eh?'
'Wha's it about Dai?'
'Well, me an Iris woz up by Gelligaer on ower way to this pub f'r lunch....the Tair Pluen think it's called.
Jest as we woz gettin near the pub all ell broke loose! Never seen anythin like it!
All these chickens must've excaped from this buildin by there. I never noticed it before....Three Feathers Eggs it's called, like on-a Welsh rugby jerseys.'
' See any pijins in dark glasses nearby?'
' I know what yew mean....tha Wayne-O Pijin an is criw. To be honest, I woz concentratin on not runnin over them bloody ens!'
' An what did the Merthyr Metres make of yewer poem, Dai?'
'Well, Iris woz very impressed....she sayd I'd captured the moment jest like it appened.'
I had heard rumours about Wayne-O Pijin's new secret hideaway up Morlais Castle in the crypt, CF48 2TR.
Apparently, his former allies Al-Wings Jones, Bazza Wood Pijin and even Timothy Rich-Pickings had joined the RAF ( Revolutionary Avian Front).
Even pigeons from over Aberdare, such as Jazzy Crust, were said to be co-operating with his guerilla tactics.
I had a strong feeling that the mass break-out from a factory farm near Gelligaer was the work of the RAF and was determined to find Wayne-O again.
It proved easy to locate him, given the fact that I had the postcode and an exceedingly Smart phone.
A trail of droppings and chicken feathers led me there, though Wayne-O was surrounded only by a few acolytes and several wives, all in dark glasses and berets.
In response to every question, he answered in what seemed like riddles.
'Were your RAF involved in the recent raid and release of chickens near Gelligaer?'
'Do you see any chickens here?' he replied.
'Have you hidden them somewhere, or are they free to roam?'
'I went in search of the Three Feathers. It was a quest, but not the holy grail.'
' Have you modelled the RAF on the former German terrorist group the Rote Armee Fraktion, also known as the RAF ?'
' I do not speak German, only 'Ich Dien' which I saw below the Three Feathers. I believe it means 'I Serve', but I do not serve you No-Wings.'
' What kind of guerilla action have you got planned? Will it be escalated?'
' I may live in a cave, but I am not Glyndwr!'
' Do you know there's a major police operation under way to re-arrest you after the Merthyr Pet Shop and factory farm crimes?'
' Is freedom a crime?'
With that, I abandoned the interview.
I have since been tipped off that the BBC's use of pigeons in its previous Welsh international rugby build-up could have dire consequences for the corporation.
THE GREAT EGGSCAPE
Chickens, chickens everywhere,
got in our faces and our hair!
Me and Iris out for a quiet drive,
they were like bees disturbed from a hive.
In the hedges, on the road,
a clucking disgrace if truth be told.
Thousands of chickens on the run,
pecking, flapping and having fun.
Never knew that building was their home,
looked more like a factory than a farm.
Iris and me went to the pub after,
on the menu was 'Chicken 'n' chips'. No ta!
Never seen so many birds in all my days,
like a Hitchcock film and I was dazed.
by Dai 'The Rhyme' Davies of Winchfawr.
'
I met up with local working-class rhymester Dai Davies on Ron's bus , going up the hill to go back down again.
At first all he wanted to do was show me his brandnew shopping trolley which his beloved Iris Burnett had bought him for his birthday.
His Jack Russell Vlad was still sulking inside it and looking decidedly out of sorts.
The trolley was certainly a GTi version with side mirrors, bumpers and , best of all, a loud hooter which Dai demonstrated so Ron the Drive almost swerved into a hedge!
'Vlad still got the ump?' I asked.
'Aye! Ee still carn get is tiny ead round Iris see, but ee'll come round in time....she've begun t give im treats every time she comes round, so that'll work the trick eventually.......
Yer, ave a look at this poem Mike.'
He showed me his latest creation entitled 'The Great Eggscape'.
'Like it , eh Mike?......We ad a topic t write about animals and this appened. What a coincidence,eh?'
'Wha's it about Dai?'
'Well, me an Iris woz up by Gelligaer on ower way to this pub f'r lunch....the Tair Pluen think it's called.
Jest as we woz gettin near the pub all ell broke loose! Never seen anythin like it!
All these chickens must've excaped from this buildin by there. I never noticed it before....Three Feathers Eggs it's called, like on-a Welsh rugby jerseys.'
' See any pijins in dark glasses nearby?'
' I know what yew mean....tha Wayne-O Pijin an is criw. To be honest, I woz concentratin on not runnin over them bloody ens!'
' An what did the Merthyr Metres make of yewer poem, Dai?'
'Well, Iris woz very impressed....she sayd I'd captured the moment jest like it appened.'
I had heard rumours about Wayne-O Pijin's new secret hideaway up Morlais Castle in the crypt, CF48 2TR.
Apparently, his former allies Al-Wings Jones, Bazza Wood Pijin and even Timothy Rich-Pickings had joined the RAF ( Revolutionary Avian Front).
Even pigeons from over Aberdare, such as Jazzy Crust, were said to be co-operating with his guerilla tactics.
I had a strong feeling that the mass break-out from a factory farm near Gelligaer was the work of the RAF and was determined to find Wayne-O again.
It proved easy to locate him, given the fact that I had the postcode and an exceedingly Smart phone.
A trail of droppings and chicken feathers led me there, though Wayne-O was surrounded only by a few acolytes and several wives, all in dark glasses and berets.
In response to every question, he answered in what seemed like riddles.
'Were your RAF involved in the recent raid and release of chickens near Gelligaer?'
'Do you see any chickens here?' he replied.
'Have you hidden them somewhere, or are they free to roam?'
'I went in search of the Three Feathers. It was a quest, but not the holy grail.'
' Have you modelled the RAF on the former German terrorist group the Rote Armee Fraktion, also known as the RAF ?'
' I do not speak German, only 'Ich Dien' which I saw below the Three Feathers. I believe it means 'I Serve', but I do not serve you No-Wings.'
' What kind of guerilla action have you got planned? Will it be escalated?'
' I may live in a cave, but I am not Glyndwr!'
' Do you know there's a major police operation under way to re-arrest you after the Merthyr Pet Shop and factory farm crimes?'
' Is freedom a crime?'
With that, I abandoned the interview.
I have since been tipped off that the BBC's use of pigeons in its previous Welsh international rugby build-up could have dire consequences for the corporation.
THE GREAT EGGSCAPE
Chickens, chickens everywhere,
got in our faces and our hair!
Me and Iris out for a quiet drive,
they were like bees disturbed from a hive.
In the hedges, on the road,
a clucking disgrace if truth be told.
Thousands of chickens on the run,
pecking, flapping and having fun.
Never knew that building was their home,
looked more like a factory than a farm.
Iris and me went to the pub after,
on the menu was 'Chicken 'n' chips'. No ta!
Never seen so many birds in all my days,
like a Hitchcock film and I was dazed.
by Dai 'The Rhyme' Davies of Winchfawr.
'
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