A seagull

When I was a boy, one of my favourite things at the seaside was the sight of dear little seagulls. Well I'm not a boy anymore. Seagulls are cunts.
I'm being annoyed by one this very minute. It's on a roof opposite my living-room window. It's a juvenile; they are a horrible muddy grey colour and have hunch backs, and they make a really aggravating whistling noise. I wish I had a rocket launcher. I'd give it something to whistle about, the bastard.