what’s good for the goose ain’t necessarily good for the gander

One of my mammy’s FAVOURITE sayings but the proper way round.

Anyhoo! Thumping noises then people squeals and chatter caught my attention. A gander was beating his brains out — boxing his reflection — in an attempt to keep his young lady safe for nesting on our front lawn (at work).

You don’t hear what ppl are saying but part was laughing at my ‘I know…’ empathising and calm ‘shoo shoos.’

As I left the room, I went outside and drove him back to the front lawn. He had knocked several feathers loose and was walking quite oddly. He’d really done himself a bad turn!

He came back a couple hours later and was far more aggressive — but I’m not scared.

I’m a fecking hillbilly for fuck’s sake. He got so that I changed from my usual Doolitttle voice to Ta: ‘I can fucking kill you and if I do, I’ll eat you. Go home to your wife, like I said, now.’ He fucked off.

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