They have a pigeon loft. Every tea-time, he stands in his garden, calling his pigeons, with a loud, monotonous, inane, grating and bloody irritating incantation, rather reminiscent of a city-centre newspaper vendor (do they still have those?)
I'd rather like to gaffer-tape his gob shut, but Gill says I mustn't.
Our cat is a little too old to unleash on the pigeons.
I don't want to harm the pigeons, though; they're probably as p***ed off as I am with the chap's moronic chanting.
Would it be un-neighbourly to deploy one of these ?
