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It’s a Hard Life for a Sparrow

I’m posting something old today. I wrote this over two years ago. It’s a monologue from the point of view of a Sparrow. Sorry for the amount of swearing in this; it is in character!

I guess this is it, I’m gonna have to prepare myself for being homeless forever. No more getting smashed in my tree, no more hitting the nest for some sleep when I’m knackered, what a shit life for a Sparrow.

It all started last week when some of those funny little bald things came down to the woods. You know, those ones with fuck all fur and with a pointless extra pair of legs instead of wings. They marched straight into the woods and started hacking away at my home. Bastards. I was just sitting, casually watching The Real Sparrows of County Oak Wood until those wankers interrupted with their axe sounds. I paid for that new branch with my hard earned cash, so why were they taking my tree away? I wasn’t in no debt and they left me homeless with nowhere to go.

My mate Robin said I should become one of them homing pigeons – you get a council house with the job so you always have a place to come back to. I went down to jobseekers down near the river on Tuesday to apply. That wasn’t a nice experience I can tell you. First I had to go down to that shit hole where all the blue-tits hang about. Prostitutes the lot of them. Don’t go into their tree holes unless you’re wanting to lose your pants and ten quid. I couldn’t afford a Wormy King after that. Then came the worst part. The nob heads at the job centre refused to let me apply for the homing pigeon position. I was dead polite and everything, I even said please and thanks and smiled a load, but they still refused me. Said I didn’t look like a pigeon. I said I knew that – I’m a fucking Sparrow obviously. Then they said that only pigeons could apply for the homing pigeon position. I went mental! They can’t discriminate like that. We’re all birds at the end of the day. Plus, who wants a pigeon? None of them fellas wash properly, that’s why they’re such a dirty grey. I told them that, then guess what they did? They only went and said I can’t be so racist. Fucking hypocrites.

I probably shouldn’t have said that. Not ‘cause it’s racist, because it’s not, but because the job centre is full of those dirty, grey little dossers. They’re all in there getting their cheques, the twats. Got beat up on the way home, didn’t I?

I should have known it was stupid to follow one of Robin’s ideas – he never even paid his bills. He got his tree repossessed in Spring. Fucked off and thought we wouldn’t have known about it, but I’m not dumb. Cheapskate red-breasted twat!

Now I’m left here nursing my black eye and sitting in the mud with no nest to call home. It’s a shit life for a sparrow…

3 thoughts on “It’s a Hard Life for a Sparrow

  1. I love, love, love this piece. Especially the POV – he sounds exactly like my neighbour who is always mouthing off about the Job Centre, lol.

    “Don’t go into their tree holes unless you’re wanting to lose your pants and ten quid” Legit crying of laughter.

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