There’s a pair of baby blackbirds in the Motcomb St garden, and I’ve been in a bit of a huff because Chantal won’t let me chase them.
‘How wonderful,’ says the MD.
‘Yes, slowly roasted with carrots and a dark chocolate sauce,’ thinks I.
‘Let’s hope the garden remains a cat-free environment!’ says the MD.
Everyone is cooing about how wonderful they are, but I understand blackbird a little, and actually they’re cheeky little beasties. Allow me translate: