HI there my little witches! Your beloved Cynthia here. I hope you’ve all been holding some space for me!
Before your kids force you see me singing the shit out of everything at the cinema, I wanted to share an anecdote. The story of how I tracked and murdered a European Herring Gull for stealing my chips. No, NOT a seagull, people. That is not a species. There is no such thing.
It all begins on a weekend trip to Margate. I’d picked up my usual haddock and chips from Pete’s Fish Factory, slathered it in ketchup and was about to tuck in. But beneath my glistening fillet, I found what can only be described as a ‘massive f**k off chip’. The biggest I’d ever seen. Perhaps the biggest chip in history.
But out of nowhere, a gull the size of a f**king pterodactyl swooped down and grabbed my record-breaking chip before I could even take a photo of me wielding it to put on my socials.
Naturally I gave chase, but it was a crafty bastard. I clipped it with a bread roll but instead of slowing it down, it just angered it. I lost track of the beast shortly after that, and despite several calls to the local twitchers in Botany Bay Beach no one could track down its location.
Over the next eight months the gull became my obsession. The need for revenge consumed my life. Whenever a gap in my calendar opened up, I would make the pilgrimage to the Kent seafront in the hope of coming face to beak with my feathered nemesis.
I spoke to the RSPB, put out adverts in the local rag, and even camped out under the stars on the beach, my net and hammer close at hand. Trying to enlist the help of the team from Channel 4’s Hunted also proved fruitless. They all just stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Especially when I told them I’d turned down a part in the new Tarantino movie to pursue the beast.
Just when I was about to give up. I got a tip-off from Brenda at Dreamland Arcades. The bird was back. And bigger than ever.
I grabbed my net, excused myself from a Christian Dior shoot mid-take, and sprinted away. I tracked the monster to some steep cliffs which I scaled free solo style. There was my adversary, sitting in its foul nest, taunting me.
Our battle began. A fight for the ages. The bird pecked, I pecked back. It shrieked, I hit the high E6 note from Defying Gravity. Stunned at my range, the gull stopped. Allowing me just enough time to bite its throat clean out and spit it into the choppy waters below.
My foe bled out in a matter of moments. I had my revenge.
But you try telling that story in your pre-interview for The Graham Norton Show and they’ll book Ariana instead. They’re just not willing to confront the harsh reality of violent celebrity retribution against wildlife. They’ll learn when Reese Witherspoon brings on a gutted squirrel.
