Furrance Nightingale

I was cycling home drunk from the pub about 4am this morning and stacked. Right over the handlebars. I had my laptop and camera in my bag and somehow they were unscathed. I got let off with a sore toe and a small graze on my back. As I lay sorrowfully inspecting my wounds on the curb of the ironically named 'Gore St', I heard a little chirp and felt a bushy tail brushing on my arm. I turned round and was presented with this handsome chap.



I kind of got the feeling he'd seen my crash, and as a upstanding citizen of Fitzroy came to make sure I was ok. He was massively friendly and the sort of beast that never stops chatting. If i were to anthropomorphise him id say he would have had a fake cockney accent like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins... "Awight squire.. Wooops-A-Daisy! Nasty tumble ya took there.. wanna hand? Cheer up Guv, it might never happen...." etc. (all said in one breath)



He had a funny habit of kind of running about frantically and purring and chirping,and then all of a sudden he'd just stop and stare at a bush or something for a bit..like proper Nam-Vet 1000 yard stare.... then almost as suddenly jerk out of his trance and begin the frantic pacing again..




I also noticed after a while that he couldn't or wouldn't put his tongue in his mouth.




He looked pretty funny but whatever, it was defo worth the crash just to meet this amusing beast. Until next time, Furrance..(and with my shocking history of drunken bike incidences, there will surely be a next time).