Winnie's favourite cock!
Her christmas squeak toy
The cockerel that roosts in the beech trees of the graveyard had gone.
The little bastard has been crowing lustily in the dark early mornings since he was dumped on me, and every effort on my behalf to catch him had failed miserably , so after several months surviving the elements , I found it strange that when we disappeared to Kent for a few days, he was gone on our return!
The mystery had everything of a Miss Marple adventure to it!
Who were the culprits of this heinous crime?
Was the abduction the responsibility of marauding badgers?
(Doubtful as badgers can't climb trees)
Or was it one of the residents of the lane, pig sick of the crowing in the middle of the night that might have paid a local hit farmer to blast the noisy bastard right off his perch ?
Could it be trendy Carol or her husband Ewan from the end house?
Or Viv and Mike from the bungalow? (They may be pensioners but I've always noticed a steely strong stare behind the spectacles )
Or could it be John and Mandy from next door? They may have grinned their way through my frequent apologies with a Crisp " no he didn't wake us us this morning!" kind of statement but I was sure they were gritting their teeth behind the polite smiles
Whoever it was , not a feather was left behind to shed light on the case!
And peace has returned to Bwthyn y llan
It's made my Christmas!
I have a vision of the villagers out with nets...en masse! Followed by chicken casserole in the village hall.
ReplyDeleteA sniper with a telescopic scope more like!
DeleteSometimes it's good when things get taken out of our own hands and dealt with.
ReplyDeleteOh yes.....no more sleepless nights
DeleteContact the writers of Broadchurch immediately!
ReplyDeleteOr, or, you know, the welsh one (can't remember the name, the one with you in it!).
Oooh Vick, haven't seen that in a while.
x
I think I have a case of The Christmas Crazies aka an overdose of The FW.
D I mathais in hinterland!
DeleteOh be still my beating heart
Miss Marple would expect it was the first one you though of.
ReplyDeleteMaybe we need to have a Tisane, and let our little grey cells work.
Or just forget it all all and be happy.
I hope he is just not wintering at some warm barn somewhere and will come back in the spring.
cheers, parsnip
Let's hope not gayle x
Deletethe feral cat who chases Albert? How is Phyliss?
ReplyDeleteShe's fine as are the other animals...is,wyn dud a grand job
DeleteOh your poor cock! What on earth has become of it? Broadstairs has a lot to answer for! Every cock is unique and irreplaceable.
ReplyDeleteAin't THAT the truth !
DeleteI am sitting on the edge of my seat with your latest cock story. Let's hope it all works out in the end.
ReplyDeleteAs are 1000 other readers
DeleteKeep em wanting more thomas. Keep em wanting more
Winnie's favourite cock looks like he's gagging for it.x
ReplyDeleteWilliam has just removed his squeak !
DeleteMr Bun the Baker in the back alley?
ReplyDeleteWith the snooker balls in the old sock?
DeleteNow you should put on your deerstalker cap and go door to door with a notepad and pen interviewing the neighbours.
ReplyDeleteI've put down my knitting more like and have donned my felt hat
DeleteCooked!
ReplyDeleteStuffed!
DeleteWas it Miss Scarlet in the library with the lead piping? or have I gone stir crazy and played too many Christmas board games !!
ReplyDeleteIt's comparable to the newest Agatha Raisin mystery I finished...will you ever uncover the murderer?
ReplyDeleteOh yes! I will sniff out the culprit!
DeleteThe murderer is always, always, the most famous. Well, on the tele of course, gets a bit more difficult in the actual book.
ReplyDeleteI'm begining to realise who it could be.....
DeleteYou might ask Chris.
ReplyDeleteOmg ...a contract killing?
DeleteOh the plot continues to thicken.....
ReplyDeleteThe zombies dunnit.
ReplyDeleteJane x
Something smells...fowl
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't worry too much. Unless of course you find a cock head on your pillow. Then thats a different story.
ReplyDeleteWon't be the first time that's happened Kim
DeleteDrop by their houses around dinner time and you might find the culprit.
ReplyDeleteNow there's an idea xx
DeleteYou hadn't written about the midnight crowboy for a while, I figured he was chicken stew a long time ago.
ReplyDeleteHappy New Years!
I'm worried sick over your cock.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Janie
I feel like I should be a little sad, since no one else is. :)
ReplyDeleteSherlock Holmes and the Mystery of the Vanishing Cock
ReplyDeleteOr he's just trying to lull you into a false sense of complacency. Then one morning at 4 am, WHAM! COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOO!
ReplyDeleteCant wait to hear the outcome of this mystery in the New Year.
ReplyDeleteHappy New Year to you John, Chris and the menagerie - lets hope 2015 is just as exciting.
Happy New Year John, to you and Chris and the entire household plus the Ukrainian Village inhabitants, all 80-whatever souls. XXXX
ReplyDeletePhone Miss Marple; or even Aunty Glad.
ReplyDeleteMethinks a local owl was sick and tired of having it's prey warned by the cock that it was on the prowl. I'd be cheesed off too - and probably bloody hungry too.
ReplyDeleteIt wouldn't be Christmas without Miss Marple would it?
ReplyDeleteIf what is feared has actually happened I hope the MURDERER him/herself suffers death by a thousand cuts. But only if it's a human being. If the culprit's another animal I think we can only shrug our collective shoulders and move on.
ReplyDeleteAnd here's wishing (once more) 'A Happy NY' to you and to your 'family' - both immediate and extended, to include other zoological species.
Happy New year John & quieter mornings !
ReplyDeleteHmm... The cock that got away.
ReplyDeleteWe live in the north of Scotland and there was a rhea (like an emu) in someone's field. Except it kept escaping and wandering into neighbouring fields. Then one day last year, it just disappeared.
ReplyDeleteSo funny! I always love hearing about the people of Trelawnyd - and now there is a "trendy" Carol! Uhhhhh, so exciting!!
ReplyDeleteThis has nothing to do with your post...but Welsh is the one language I can never figure out, pronunciation-wise. Long ago, I had a friend in Pontypridd, Glamorgan, S. Wales...the only address I could have pronounced without embarrassing myself.
ReplyDeleteHave a great day!