For The Birds . . .

"If you blip another bloody gull, there'll be no dinner for you tonight, m'lad," she said, threateningly.

"But it's freezing outside and this is the only half-decent picture I've got. You don't really expect . . ."

"Stop whimpering, lad. Put on your coat. Get out and take a pic or I'll send you to your room without your black pudding sandwich. I know that's your favourite."

Dejected, stomach rumbling defiantly, I shamble off to my room, my computer and the last gull/pigeon I'll ever blip . . .