Why I HATE seagulls!

Not only are they, as my mother-in-law memorably said, flying rats. Not only did the bastards mug me for my ice cream in St Ives. Now a seagull has just shat on me copiously, negligently and incontinently, splatting my hair and clothes with disgusting yuk, causing me to stink of secondhand seagull food so I now need a bath. It then went and had blatant noisy sex with another seagull on the roof of Barclays Bank.
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I’m not even allowed to shoot them. Never mind the fact that the only things likely to be safe from my deadly aim would be the seagulls I’d be aiming at, any attempt could land me in jail with a heavy fine because seagulls are a Protected Species. Or rather, one of the generic types of white bird, that are supposed to live on cliffs and eat fish, is a Protected Species. The rest don’t need to be because they breed all the time, produce about three noisy rubbish-attacking clutches of young per year and are clearly going to be one of the few species that survives the ecological meltdown that’s coming.
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Generally speaking I’m pro-bird. I’m a member of the RSPB. I like watching house-sparrows fighting each other for the choicest bushes in the spring and I like the way the crows down by the river remember that my silly black labrador gobbles up the bread put out for them by sad bird-feeders and caw and fly around threateningly when we come past their rookery. I particularly enjoy the idea that they’re the descendents of dinosaurs and that Tyrannosaurus Rex chicks were probably cute and fluffy, and velociraptors probably looked like Big Bird but with teeth.
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However. I resent the fact that I can’t go and eat an ice cream cone in any Cornish town without being stuka’d by gulls aiming to get me to drop my ice cream into the gaping beak of their young. I resent the fact that all the rubbish has to be carefully tucked up under an old duvet or the young seagulls will have spread it all over the road before the dustcart gets anywhere near it. I resent the fact that they wake me up at five a.m shouting yark yark at each other and I resent the fact that seagulls target my car AND ME with their stinky poo.
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And I particularly resent the fact that they can do all this with impunity. That’s why they’re basically winged bankers and I hate them.

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