Inspector McJob was dispatched to the scene. The pigeon was in shock. McJob asked the fat bird to describe the events of the crime.He asked me for sex and I said no. He said "Ok then, I'll have to rape you.". I said "Ok then", and he did. He used petrol as a lubricant. After the tragic event I had a cigaratte, put it out and accidently sat on the ashtray. "My bottom is on fire!" I said. "Oh, that's nice.", he said, and as if by magic turned into a carrot, before I could see who it was. The magical carrot flew through the open window."
Let me first begin by refuting (elegantly and with legendary finesse) the accusation made by certain critics I shall not deign
to name, that I am a) narrow-minded, and b) inconsistent. I feel that I need simply point them towards some of my
magesterial oeuvre3 and ask them to master the skill of reading works (Hint: start by learning the alphabet, boys), So, it is
with breathtaking logic and total veracity that I am led towards the conclusion I intend to expound in this ground-breaking
yet well-expressed essay: that the greatest piece of writing in English is "The Pigeon Rapist."
Three things lead me to this audacious yet undoubtedly correct assertion: firstly my vast intellect; secondly, my wonderful little lady-wife Queenie (the best female writer in the language,4 and, more importantly, baker of delicious eccles cakes); and thirdly, the unique way in which the authors get to the very core question of human existence: what is it like to have your bottom set on fire. See how the dialogue gleams and sparkles like sputum in the sun:
"I know who did it, " said McJob.
"Tell me then, " said the pigeon.
Past 'critics' have foolishly incurred my riteous wrath by claiming that "The Pigeon Rapist" is "somewhat lacking in plot, character development and use of language;"5 what these clod-hopping dunderheads, lacking my superior intellect and facility of expression; fail to see is that that is exactly the point. The central argument of the piece, "The culprit was John," can only be expressed in such limited terms, a development so iconoclastic and awe-inspiring it is worthy of being penned by my (very) good self Q.E.D., I think.
Hiya! In this nice 'n' easy fun-size article, I hope to explain how that seminal meister-oeuvre, "The Pigeon Rapist" challenges the received nostrums of the imperialist-racist-paternalist-patriarchal-European-hierarchy-conspiracy-whole-sort-of-general-mish-mash.'6 In doing so, it may be compared7 to the remarkable stands taken by Princess Diana, Sleeping Beauty, Anne of Green Gables, Joan Collins in Dynasty and Mary Wollstonecraft. For, while evil bitch from hell, Dr. Lois Layne, in her work of unmitigated trash, "Reality expounding metatexts,"8 argues, with typical lack of insight, that the lack of reference to the troubles of the sisterhood in "The Pigeon Rapist"9 makes its authors typical lackeys of the capitalist-bourgeois patriarchy; I have demonstrated beyond doubt10 that the so-called 'Pigeon' is in fact a metaphor for the suffering of Womankind. So there, Lois, get out of that one you fat cow. So there11 we have it. Seeya!1. My genius.