Chicken Out? Chickens in...

Traumatised by the Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall 'Chicken Out' series of programmes broadcast over the New Year, Denise and Andy decided that, having been brave new allotmenteers for the previous year, the obvious next step in their 'How green can we go?' campaign was to become chicken guardians. 'Guardian' being the operative word. You might think that you own the chickens, but they, like cats, have other ideas.

In order to fund the chicken project, one of the two family cars had to go. 'Get rid of the Fiat,' says Denise. 'I'll walk to and from work. It's only a couple of miles. I'll improve my fitness, too.' The cats snigger behind their paws in the face of her bravado. 'Are you sure?' asks Andy, knowing how quickly Denise can turn from the Cookie Monster to Oscar the Grouch when she's soaked with rain. 'Oh, yes,' replies Denise, blithely waving her hand and muttering about umbrellas, buses, lifts from charitable work colleagues etc etc.

Denise realises now, from grim experience, the discomfort of walking home in a long skirt, after getting caught in a monsoon and completing a two mile hike with wet fabric flapping around her legs. And don't even mention the soaking undies.

BUT....by then it was TOO LATE. The car is sold, the chicken house, run and feed purchased and guest accommodation is open. First enquiry is from Mrs Bennett and Mrs Miggins, genteel ladies, both seeking laying position in domestic environment. 'Shall this position suit our requirements, Mrs Miggins?' enquires Mrs Bennett of her travelling companion. 'As long as there are pies available,' replies Mrs Miggins. (Fans of Blackadder will grasp this intertextual allusion immediately; non-fans have some research to do. Denise shall be checking you've done your homework next blog.)

Misses' Bennett and Miggins have been in residence for four months now. 'How does it suit us?' Mrs Bennett enquires of Mrs Miggins this very morning as they undulate gracefully back and forth on the garden swing. 'Well, Mrs Bennett, we have wrecked the borders, ransacked the greenhouse, played many a game of velociraptor on what is left of the lawn and they feed us grapes and sunflower seeds. I think, ' she says, dropping a big poop through the swing onto the patio, 'it suits us very well. Despite the lack of pies.'