Birds do it...all over me

As I took the bins out today, I felt something land on my head. I looked up and there above me on the telephone wire was a tiny bird doing that cute stuff they do when Countryfile is in the area. Naturally, I shared some of my best Anglo-Saxon with it - and, unfortunately, with the neighbours - before trooping in to the house to clean myself up.

The bird flew off, doubtless very pleased with itself.

'How is this good?', you ask, 'A bird has crapped on your head!' Well, here's the thing: when I checked in the mirror, it turns out the little sprite had not shared the processed remains of yesterday's fatball curry with me: it had merely shaken off some water. So having thought that I had been s**t on from a great height, it turns out to have been nothing of the sort.

The other part of this fortuitous turn of events is that only the other evening on QI they had mentioned that birds don't have bladders so they don't wee (the weight when flying, you see). I was therefore able to be sure that it wasn't poo's close cousin.

That's one for the 'it's not all bad' folder, like thinking you were going to have a Tesco sandwich with Ann Widdecombe and finding out it's actually Pret a Manger with Kate Humble.

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