Yesterday I walked the length of Northcote Road in Clapham, ending up skirting around Wandsworth Common at dusk fell. That's quite poetic, for me. Dusk fell. Anyway, I passed a shop called The Lucky Parrot. It was a gift shop, and in the window sat a parrot. Opposite the parrot stood a woman who flapped her arms at it, presumably encouraging it to say something. She kept on, and on, and on. She went right up to its perch, prodding at it. The parrot refused to emit any noise whatsoever, and looked at the woman with utter contempt. Poor thing. I don't think I've ever seen a less fortunate parrot in all my life.