CHAOS BEFORE PREDICTABILITY

Sometimes a headline just catches your eye. Today it lurked on The Telegraph’s pages announcing ‘amorous ducks’ could endanger a small town’s tourism. As amusing as this was if that’s their biggest worry, they’re pretty well off.

Perhaps they might take a night out in Croydon on a Friday night. After all, blood, beer and vomit is nothing compared to the horrors of duck poo. Ever sat in that stuff? You’ll have to wash your jeans one whole time. And as for an over zealous mating season: the sparkling streets and bars of Croydonia are in mating season 365 days a year.

What’s more, I’d bet an under-sexed, over inebriated lad would pose more of a problem than a horny duck. Unless you’ve really got a real thing for eating your crusts. But as they say in the article “The law forbids us from shooting them or anything like that”. I guess this goes for both parties – as does the “wild mob-handed mating technique”.

So how about killing two ducks with one stone (no, RSPB, not literally) and start putting ponds into clubs. The quackers will be free to go about their business, whilst the clubbers should be distracted enough by the surreal water-feature to cool their pants down – at least for a minute.