A colleague of mine (who shall remain nameless, for fear he'll be sectioned under the Mental Health Act), approached me today and said ''have you seen what the B****** Trust for Ornithology have ticked this week? Hawfinch and bloody Gos! This is war now...and I don't mean that metaphorically.''
He continued, ''right, what we need to do is get a crew up to Thetford and kick their stringy arses. It'll be a piece of p*ss, I mean, there are 700 of us and what, eleven of them? What are they going to do? Call on the BirdGuides reservists? That won't help because we've got BirdLife International watching our backs. We could annex the Nunnery, nick their year list AND all of their ringing data! It'll be a riot! The carrot crunchers won't know what's hit them!''
When he left my desk, I rang Human Resources, then 999.
Obviously we're pretty scared by this clearly unhinged character so to ensure we'll recognise him if he bowls up at our front door, please will you point him out, Darren?
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