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Rescue Chickens

The Kindness of Strangers

Does my arse look fat in this soul?

The demon of paranoia re-visits old Sket

On The Road......

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2007-11-13 - 5:59 p.m.

The Best Work Conversation EVER!

Sket (after a conversation with one of the caretakers who had reported that some guy had emptied the contents of his chicken sheds over his fence and into a playground): Great, Mark is going to send me a photo of a load of chicken shit; that'll be one to look forward too, I can pin it up next to the photos of dog shit he sent me last week.

Dopy admin woman: Chicken mess; where did that come from then?

Sket: Oh, there's a guy with a load of rescue chickens on Nelson Road. He's got permission but I'll have to go and tell him to stop dumping the shite.

Dopy admin woman: (slowly and with wide eyes) RESCUE chickens?

Sket: Yeah, he's got about 10 of them I think

Dopy admin woman: (confusion etched all over her face) Well.......what do they do then?

Sket: Who?

Dopy admin woman: The chickens

Sket: The chickens? Erm.....well, chicken stuff really. Clucking, scratching...general chickening I guess (notices Admin woman's deep confusion)........oh hang on a minute, you didn't think they were RESCUE chickens did you? These are chickens who have been rescued from a battery farm not chickens specially trained in rescue techniques or anything

Dopy admin woman: Oh, when you said rescue I thought you meant something else.

Sket: No, they aren't a little rescue squad or anything. They don't wear capes or accompany the emergency services on call outs. They are ex-abused chickens not superhero chickens.

Admin woman: (still looking confused) Oh.........

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