On chickens

On chickens

Every once in a while, readers of these pages are faced with issues of such great import and solemnity, they are left with a whole new way of dealing with the world around them and the everyday politick that sums up their lives.

This is, you will be sickened pleased to hear, is not one of those days.

My good pal Kenn – gentleman of this parish - has a problem.

And his problem arrives in the size and shape of a chicken. For it is: a chicken.

He already owns two – Colonel Sanders and Nando – and is stuck for the name of a third.

Like a complete damn fool he has turned to me for advice, and found that my entirely EXCELLENT suggestions – Fang, Henzilla and Harry Egg-knapp – are somewhat wanting.

And this is where you come in, as we announce the Suggest a Name for Kenn's Chicken Competition.

The rules are simple:

1. Suggest a name for Kenn's chicken

2. Err...

3. ...That's it

The winner gets:

1. Naming rights on Kenn's chicken

2. Salmonella

I know of at least one fellow blogger who never wants to see another chicken as long as he lives, so don't say we never offer the best prizes on this site.

Extra marks for style, control, damage and aggression, not to mention a convincing back-story. Get in!


On the death of your namesake

RIP Ali Bongo

Being an Alistair, I went through school as "Bongo" for obvious reasons.

Also, because I was MAGIC, and NOT because of my enormous collection of bongo magazines.