Infamous grouse

Hot damn, I had no idea what a close shave I had the other night. Imagine if I’d driven into that Red Grouse… forget happy dreams of grouse-on-toast for tea; the plucky little gamebird would have probably stopped me in my tracks, keyed the bonnet, and made off with the alloys, pausing only to nick the stereo to flog later to those dodgy immigrant Wheatears that are starting to appear everywhere on the hill these days.

Hard as nails, the whole gamebird clan. Now I know better than to mess with the grouse in da ‘hood.


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