Readers of a certain age will have just suffered an involuntary twitch on scanning the title. And I suggest you go with it; stand up, clear a space and DO THE FUNKY CHICKEN.
It is the defining icon of the pointless pop song. Beak and shoulders above such shady parodies trying way too hard with Polka Dot Bikinis and made up words. Agado for pity’s sake, it’s just not chicken is it?
And if anyone should question your sanity, tell them you’re under instruction from a man who thinks he is a hedgehog. The worse thing that can happen is a properly fun conversation with HR. And, at best, free therapy.
Having jumped through a complex serious of logistical hurdles – starting with me saying “Hey let’s get some Chickens eh Kids” and Carol saying “Wooah, no way” – we are now only a few hours away from chicken husbandry.
Normally, such an endeavor would be preceded by a detailed study of exactly how one keeps chickens, the construction of an appropriate poultry based dwelling, and the sealing off of a goodly portion of the garden for birds to roam, and predators not to eat them.
We’ve done none of that, because entire Leigh clan has been extremely busy on far more important chicken related activities. Specifically naming, and I initially set the bar high offering up “Sporty”, “Ginger”, “Posh” and “Scary”.
However my entreaty to complete the “Spice Birds” by simply augmenting our four with “Baby” was dismissed on the nebulous grounds of being extremely childish. I retaliated by exercising the power of veto on “Nugget”, “Drumstick” and “Chicken”*
Right then, anyone out there with chicken knowledge**, feel free to share it right here. Stuff like “what do they eat?”, “What eats them?”, “Does the previous answer include daft Labradors?” and “What the hell am I going to do with all those eggs?”
Offers of names also gratefully excepted. In return, there is the open post of “Chief Builder with Responsibility for hurting anyone who uses ‘integrity’ and ‘building’ in the same sentence”
* Even though she has just turned eight, Random is still only distantly connected to this thing we call the “Real World”
** And I’m not interested in “Well, when I was pissed one night I got hold of this chicken and some whipped cream and….”