Lunchtime companion

The seagull is a dirty bird, yet a well protected species

It dive bombs everything in sight projectiling its faeces.

On statues, cars and buildings, it sprays its vile mess

This loathsome brute of ill repute could simply not care less.

Pregnant mums and saintly nuns, old-timers playing bowls,

No one escapes its deadly onslaught; it lives by its own rules.

This shrieking, screaming monster will fight with its own kin,

Scavenging and stealing from every rubbish bin.

It jeers at carbon footprints and noise abatement acts,

This avian freak, of whom I speak, is from the wrong side of the tracks.

And then one murky Christmas Eve a funny thing occurred,

Inspired in some small measure by this irritating bird,

I was leaving town's mad circus, stumbling en route to my car,

Heavy laden, late, exhausted, and distinctly below par

When I spied a traffic warden, lurking in the stygian gloom,

Waiting patiently to activate his own brand of festive doom

An evil smile played upon his lips as he witnessed my dismay;

I was the punk in Dirty Harry, put there to make his day.

Just then I heard a well known squawk, followed by the banshee wail,

Of an outraged, angry seagull, that devil bird from hell.

It zoomed in fast and low from the grey forbidding skies,

Then dropped it's deadly payload right between the warden's eyes,

He collapsed in an untidy heap well mired in filth and muck;

Like some portly Christmas turkey, he'd just run out of luck.

I said "he's got your number mate", as my shopping I unpacked,

And as a cruel afterthought "look out it's coming back!"

As the official cursed and spluttered, I ignored his sorry plight,

Then bade him 'Season's Greetings" ere I sped into the night.

From a nearby roof, cold and aloof, perched the offending pest, alert and ever watchful of danger to its nest.

The seagull is a noble bird with altruistic traits, and now that feisty scallywag and I are best of mates!