Attacked
I got attacked by a seagull on Brighton Pier this afternoon after buying a Jumbo Hot Dog at one of the stalls.
At first I thought an old lady had knocked into me and slapped me with her handbag. It was only when I looked down and noticed that my hot dog was missing that I knew what was going on. I’d only taken a single bite of the fucker too.
Even though the pier was crowded only 1 or 2 people seen the incident and they looked equal parts shocked and amused. Part of me thought it wasn’t too late to rescue my breakfast but by this point the fucker had the hot dog out of the bun and it was devouring it 10 feet away from me.
I thought about punching it in the face but a teacher / student group had just arrived and it would have looked bad if they’d seen me aim a blow at a poor birds head.
Most of them were confused by the commotion and I could already see them reaching for their smartphones. Since I didn’t want to become YouTube famous for getting into a fight with something who’s body composition is 50% muscle and 50% race hate, I swallowed my pride and bit my tongue.
Cunt had mustard on it’s face.
I had three choices in how to react.
- Run away crying. This was how I wanted to react. Would have looked ridiculous to the bystanders. Could have went back to the hotel, read some Mills & Boons and had a consolation wank but then I’d have never been able to look at myself in the mirror ever again. Not that I do it that much anyway.
- Laugh it off even though I was fucking raging. Only real option.
- Attack it. Part of me really wanted to grab the thing by the neck and shake it until it looked like one of those palm trees you see after a Hurricane. Not a starter. Would have resulted in a court appearance and a lot of crying children. Wouldn’t even have been able to bring it’s carcass back on the plane for my ma as a late Mother’s day gift.
I reacted by pretending to laugh even though I was humiliated. I honestly wanted to skin the fucker and turn it inside out but in all probability it would have taken my eyes out.
My only hope is that I put enough mustard on the hot dog to give the fucker a stroke.
The irony isn’t lost me from yesterday on how I talked about seagulls all having their own ‘personalities’. Well guess what? They are all cunts. That’s their personality. They peck, they swoop and they fuck. That’s it.
They are like soccer hoodlums with beaks.
The world would be so much better without them.
My run
Today I ran in daylight for the first time in Brighton.
It was brilliant. I even stretched my legs at the end and ran a kilometre flat out. Whenever I get shitty thoughts that should be my cue to run harder until I’m in some sort of pain with my lungs. Then I’ll have something to concentrate on other than thoughts like “oh God I’m so weak as a man that I’m getting fucking mugged by seagulls now”
I remember doing something similar during my half marathon challenge last year and it really helped.
Today I ran along the seafront until Rottingdean, up the hill to Woodingdean and then back across past the Racecourse to my hotel.
I’m feeling much better today even after that shit with the seagull. I’m tempted to go down to the seafront, buy a Moo-moos milkshake, take the lid off, wait for the fucker to come again and then SHUT it’s evil fucking head in the container. And watch it repent.
I will only let it go under the condition that it steals £5 from someone else and brings me the note back in perfect condition. Then I can buy myself a new hot dog and everything will be OK in the world once more.
Could be the start of a nice little crime syndicate.
