Recurring conversation

Mother herring gull sitting on top of a parked lorry, and this adolescent offspring:
Henry Herring: Mummy, Mummy, feed me.
Ma: No Henry, feed yourself.
HH: Feed me, Mummy, feed me.
Ma: I’ve shown you where to go. Go and feed yourself.
HH: I can’t fly. Feed me, feed me.
Ma: Of course you can bloody fly. You flew on top of that car, didn’t you?
HH: Don’t ‘member, feed me, feed me Mummy.
Ma: No!!!
HH: I’ll crap on this car.
Ma: You already have. So what? It’s what we do. Why should I care?
Exeat Mother followed by HH crying “feed me, Mummy, feed me.

To be repeated at hourly intervals ad nauseam for the foreseeable future.