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My Dad hasn’t seen Clive in recent times. You know who I mean Clive Dinsdale. He reared budgerigars back in the sixties with Dustin Hoffman and Geoff Capes. Good old Clive. Clive The Dive they called him cos he was a great goalkeeper. He swooped like a budgie to catch the ball.

He wore bright clothes all the time. You could say that he dressed like a budgie. That time he worked as a helicopter pilot in 1987 was where his sense of fashion came in to it’s own; there he was clothed and flying around like his favourite birdy in a chopper.

He had this thing for putting pickled onions in his trainers next to the blade of grass in a canoe on the moon. The squelchy crunching sound as he quick-stepped down the main street told him much about how you could fill up a dry river bed with empty down down. Such is the life of a man who gives his life to budgies.

He considered selling his soupy bubble troupers to the local pet shop under duress from Jimmy. Virtual Quack Quack. Budgies do go quack after all!

So good.

So long.

Farewell.