MADDO TELLS A STORY

Maddo Tells a Story

Safe this is Maddo, one of Matts alter egos. Kinda hard to do a blog post cause its got to be all pretentious and that.

I’m gonna give it a go, although I reckon I will do a video in the future, easier, less faffing and more dynamic.

Anyway, why I am writing anyway? Is it cause the gun of academia is placed against my temple? Maybe, who knows.

So what to write about……………….. Shall I talk about my favorite artists……..No

Errrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…. My last visit to an art gallery…………. Nah

Shall I pull down my trousers and show off my pseudo intellect by randomly quoting dead philosophers in a splish splash way to try and create some depth to my basic art…….. tempting but no.

Nah today, I’m gonna talk about pigeons, more importantly, Oxfordshire pigeons; These are pigeons that live in Oxford.

Let us begin.

Once upon a time, I was in Oxford. I had cycled from Reading as I was broke but really wanted to research the totem pole they had at Pit Rivers. So alas that is why  I was there.

I was tired, thirsty and feeling a bit meh. After visiting Pit Rivers, I decided to spend some time in Oxford as I wanted to recharge my energy before tackling the A4074 AKA the 13 bends of death, which is the deadliest road in England.

So after a while of walking around Oxford with no cash, watching the stream of constant tourists spending money on nodding queens and novelty pencils. I found a nice bench under a tree to sit down and have a delicious cigarette. I lit the cigarette and felt the delicious warm carcinogenic smoke fill my lungs, death never felt so good.

So anyway, I was sitting there having a smoke, feeling a bit pissy and then a sign caught my attention. The sign read ‘DO NOT FEED THE PIGEONS’.  I then started to look around for the pigeons, low and behold I found them. There were quite a few of the renegades,  bopping around not giving a fuck.

Then I looked around further and I could see there were many people sitting around the park, many were eating ice creams, chips, drinking the odd drink, laughing and chatting as they did. The pigeons were scurrying around, hoping that trickle-down food crumbs would hopefully land on the floor, giving them a tasty morsel to chew on.

I watched and watched, Yet these crumbs did not fall. I heard one mother tell her daughter the sign ‘DO NOT FEED THE PIGEONS’, she implored.  I then saw a pigeon with a broken beak, perhaps it was damaged by years and years of trying to dig for worms, even though the ground had been concreted over many eras before, I thought.

Then I saw it, The highlight of the day. This old pigeon went stumbling past my leg, It was matted and had no feet and was in a sorry state.  I was mesmerized by it for a  while, watching it stumble around the town, like a fresher on a Thursday. Then the shit hit the fan.

BOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, A chip hit the floor, all the other pigeons went scurrying over, eager for the chip. The chip dropper must have only realised the extent of their crime after the incident. They shielded themselves as the group of pigeons ascended the chip. Working in such a large number, nothing could be done. The chip was taken, leaving nothing but the smell of crime and fear.

I was happy the chip had gone and returned my gaze to the pigeon that I had been watching previously. It was still there, too worn out to join in with the chip takeover. I felt a little sad about this pigeon. I then saw another pigeon strut over to the matted pigeon. I was half expecting a fight or an unwanted sexual advance but this did not occur. What I saw was compassion as I witnessed the pigeon feed the matted pigeon what I can only assume was a bit of the rogue chip.

After googling,  I actually found that pigeons feeding each other is quite common.

The matted pigeon ate the chip and seemed a little more relaxed. This act of compassion really moved me. The matted pigeon really looked hungry and was in no state to fly around and find some food and I felt this chip had served a higher purpose.

I then looked around and saw another group of pigeons forming together, I then heard the familiar sound of a chip falling, I heard the flutter of wings zoning into a formation. I looked at the sign ‘DO NOT FEED THE PIGEONS’ and smiled.