We fly in a ‘V’ because it looks brilliant, say birds

BIRDS have revealed they fly in a V-formation because it looks ‘classy’.

Scientists claimed the shape was caused by maximising ‘lift’ from the bird in front, but birds said they just like to pretend they are in the Red Arrows.

Martin Bishop, a goose, said: “We could fly in a circle if we wanted to. Circles are a doddle, but it would look weird. Like a massive, floating hole.

“The V-shape is what we geese call a ‘design classic’. It’s simple and beautiful but it’s also a dynamic statement of intent. It screams ‘progress!’.”

Bishop added: “When you’re flying in ‘the V’ you feel like a goddamn master of the universe. I’ve done it maybe a hundred times and every time I do it I look over at my mate Brian and shout ‘this is totally brilliant, we’re so cool’.”

Bishop’s friend, Brian Stevens, said: “What I don’t understand is why humans shoot at us. Would you shoot at the Red Arrows?

“No, you bloody wouldn’t.”

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Steven Moffat's day at the January sales

JANUARY sales shopping is a tale as old as time, but there is still scope for it to get massively complicated and perilous.

Things always start off easy enough. I visit Debenhams, for their traditional blue cross sale. My aim, as ever, is to pick up a pair of alpaca blend Pringle socks on the cheap – a wee touch of luxury on the feet, I always say.

My mobile phone – or ‘plot device’ as we’ll know it from here on in – goes beep. It’s my wife asking what pattern I’ve bought this year. I reply “Low, the crows hum”, which will probably confuse her, but don’t worry – I’ll come to back to it later (I won’t though). Now it’s just a case of stonewalling everyone who asks about the socks, until we get a decent spell of Birkenstock weather in April, and then I’ll be ready to take questions.

When strolling past WH Smith, a good idea is to discreetly tap “J.M” in Morse on the window. Most people won’t notice, but one ancient old man will look up at you from behind Dennis Bergkamp’s Stillness and Speed and one tear will roll down his cheek, because he too remembers when it used to be John Menzies, and his time on this earth is nearly at an end.

My favourite part of January shopping is getting to use the self check-out. People in the queue crane their necks to see my deft fingers dance over the touch screen as I expertly decrypt the user interface in seconds. “Have you swiped your Advantage card?” it asks. The blood drains from my face and I start frantically emptying my pockets. People in the queue lose faith and start turning on me. Only now do I see the technology is better than me, and has been all along. This is the end, in the place where it all began, where no one must ever go. The place I must go immediately. They have come back. Back from being definitely dead from last time. I text the words “goodbye forever” from my plot device, then drop to my knees and weep.

But wait! My Advantage card is in my wallet, where it always is.

Turns out this is just a place like most of the other places I go. I was being a wee bit of a silly-billy to get so upset about it.