Speaking in tongues

Had to go into the centre of Winchester for a meeting today and surprised myself by realising that although I've lived here a pretty long time, I don't look up. Not enough to absorb what's really there, anyway!
So here is another grotesque (not without clock), who this time (haha) lives above Boots. I like the way his wicked pointy tongue is rather like the shape of the minute hand on the clockface (and, no, it wasn't 8.25, more like midday!)
Aren't the bird-protection spikes nasty - phurrr!