MAD FRANK DARWIN’S CORRUGATED SHED

dodo-bird-daniel-eskridge

“New shed Frank?” 

“Oh yes Brian, oh yes…finished putting it together last night as it happens…bit of a beauty don’t you think?” 

“Certainly is Frank…crikey you don’t see many modern sheds with such sturdy frames these days and the corrugated iron structuring painted a rather fetching pastel blue no doubt protects its innards from fire, rot or even a pestilence of termites.  Just the one question though.” 

“What’s that then Brian?” 

“Why did you construct it on top of the flat roof to your kitchen extension?” 

“Predators…I have to keep the bloody predators out.” 

“Predators? What here in Neasden, London? What on earth are you going to keep in it that has you so concerned about beasts of prey and such like?” 

“Dodos Brian…dodos. You see I have a brace of the blighters I discovered on a trip to the ancient woodlands of Epping Forest in that shed of mine. Got to keep ‘em nice and safe see…I’m planning to have a whole waddle of dodos in there in the fullness of time I might add.” 

“Dodos in Epping Forest in the year of our Lord 2015AD…you have to be pulling my plonker mate. Insofar as I am aware the flightless and terrestrial bird what heralds from the subfamily Raphinae of the clan of pigeons and doves and is named the dodo is my friend quite extinct. If I’m not mistaken the last widely accepted sighting of a dodo was in 1662 on the faraway island of Mauritius. Epping Forest…you’re having a laugh mate!” 

“Deadly serious Brian…deadly serious. It’s a breeding pair what I’ve got and as such they will likely be at it day and night…wait, listen up I think I hear them rumping away like billy-o even as we speak.” 

“I think you’ll find that what you can hear is the siren of a passing police car no doubt chasing down a miscreant, nothing more.” 

“Oh ye of little faith. Look Brian, hand on heart there I was in the forest on a bit of a fungi hunt under the canopy – the rare Tulostoma niveum puffball if you must know – when I came to a clearing and there in front of me, large as life were two dodos.  Too good an opportunity to miss in my book so I rushes back to the motor, grabs me trusty club hammer…runs back to the clearing…gives the both of them a swift, yet plainly not fatal bonk on the bonce thus ensuring a short term anaesthetic effect…chucked them in the back of the car…popped round to the DIY store to purchase the shed and Bobs your uncle, job done!  I’ve called them Mavis and Cyril by the way.” 

“Do you mind if I take a peek through the shed window Frank…got to see this for myself?” 

“Do what you like you Doubting Thomas you.” 

“Er Frank…don’t know how to put this…um…this may come as a great disappointment Frank but what I am looking at here is, my friend, a couple of pigeons…big ones I’ll grant you yet pigeons nonetheless.” 

“You sure Brian?” 

“100% Frank.” 

“So I won’t be using any spare eggs for the fine cuisine I had been so looking forward to, you know dodo omelette and fries that is…or should I say was?” 

“Afraid not Frank.  I mean I suppose there are certain similarities in build yet the dodo stood over three foot tall, pigeons a mere dozen or so inches. Tell you what you know those milk bottle bottom glasses you wear with the multi-flex arms that if you put them on ‘about face’ they have a magnification effect …you know the ones you have on now that the boys down the pub say, ‘You must have fucking good eyesight to see through those’…well did you, indeed have you still got them on back to front again?” 

“Might have done…thought you were looking taller than usual…and thinking about it I did mention to the missus over breakfast that by the look of her arse she should consider going on a fat free diet in the near future.”

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37 thoughts on “MAD FRANK DARWIN’S CORRUGATED SHED

  1. Well, I hope he doesn’t tell her that those jeans make her look fat.

    Pigeons are just flying rodents as far as I’m concerned, so best not to eat a pigeon egg omelet…did I ever tell you I actually have an uncle named Bob??

  2. I’m still holding out for the dodo’s. Almost Iowa is a land that time forgot (it is also a land that forgets about time too but that is another story). Anyways when you see what is in fashion around here, you’d fully believe there are dodo’s scampering about.

  3. I imagine the Missus will be cooking Frank a steady stream of pigeon egg omelettes in response to his ill chosen remarks about her dietary needs.

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