Thievin' Gits

Seagulls are not my friends. We will never get along, but today they really took the biscuit - literally. To begin this story of my feud with these feathered fiends, really I need to back track about four years; back to when I had no enemies and my heart was full of love and care. That soppy self, oddly almost exactly four years prior, took pity upon an injured gull outside of the apartment I was staying in. Being a friday night, the RSPCA were closed at the time I found the little bugger and not wanting to ruin my evening plans, I put a box over him to protect him and went out. I didn't return until about 3am, stupendously drunken, of course. I proceeded to check that everything was okay with the not so little guy, in which time a flock of over-protective seagulls dived down and bombarded me with little white pellets of poop. I was hit six times in the space of 10 seconds. That's how I learned that these guys hunt in packs.

Reluctantly, I got the RSPCA to come and take away the injured party the next day, and life carried on as usual. Myself and the flock decided to leave each other alone, bar the occasional evil glance in one another's direction. But today that ceasefire was broken, when this cheeky little f*** stole my cookie straight from my hand on the beachfront. Just look at those little girls fleeing in horror in the back ground. These guys are public menaces! I shall have my vengeance, one day. I have considered spiking their grub with laxatives, but considering their previous method of attack, I think an alternative vengeance strategy ought to be thought out...