When I first moved into my current house there were many chickens in the enclosure opposite the terrace and the gentleman responsible for their care used to start early (between 6am and 7am) letting them out of their houses and giving them feed. This was performed each morning to the sound of a portable radio, badly tuned to Pirate FM and an industrial amount of swearing at full volume. This wake-up call became known by my son and me as 'Mr Tweedy and his Chicken Disco' and we got used to the play lists of Pirate FM at that time which always seemed to include a Lady Gaga track followed by a Trago Mills advert.
Most memorable of all Chicken Discos was a 5am start the morning after I had danced around Penglaze the 'Obby 'Orse the night before Penzance Mazey Day after a few ales. 'Mr Tweedy' was off on his hols' so since he was already up and clearly in need of a jolly good swear up at the chickens...cries of "Get out you f**kers!" and "Come on you bl**dy bas**rds!" were accompanied by Lady Gaga instructing us all to 'Just Dance' at full and terrible volume.
Lady Gaga - Just Dance Chickens!
When 'Mr Tweedy' returned from his holiday feeling better than he had for some time, he sought medical advice and discovered he was allergic to chickens! Exit feathered enemies and enter...Pinky and Perky: Mr Tweedy's get rich slowly scheme in the shape of two Gloucester old spot sows. Mr Tweedy told me pigs are intelligent and will only respond to calmness, hence, no radio and no shouting.
I love those pigs.
Until next time disco dancers,
Cheers, Alison x