"They just seemed interested in finding the next American rare"

Cor! This blogging lark is getting harder and harder. It's almost as competitive as birding on Corvo. I was just penning one of my standard pieces, dripping with nigh inexplicable vitriol, regarding a self-publicising, sanctimonious, Robin-tickler, when I noticed somebody had beaten me to it. I do believe I have just wasted the entire gilded contents of one whole slop bucket of scorn. Well, it isn't worth publishing now. Unless I can locate another free-loading, "bird guider" [Ed. WTF?!] with a penchant for the word vibe who moans about being stuck on an Atlantic island during fast moving depressions instead of talking peanut feeders to the Prestatyn Women's Guild, all my literary effort will go to waste. Is there anyone else out there who, due to being totally bereft of a sense of humour, and lacking an appreciation of the finer nuances of English as a second language, bleats about how nasty and competitive WP rarity finders can be? No,... thought not,... bugger.

On a totally unrelated note, does it annoy you that people who spend half their lives working in ecology/taxonomy/conservation talk little of conservation when on holiday looking for rares? On finding Northern Flicker, why didn't the Corvo birders huddle together to knock up a quick habitat management plan or population viability analysis? It's enough to make you want to make a laughable attempt to look cool and save the world by writing another pile of inconsequential shite for the benefit of Waxwing-loving housewives everywhere.

And lo, it came to pass, that St Franny of Lee missed all the rares because he was too busy talking, but not doing anything, about the conservation of species he knew bugger all about on an island to which he'd never return (Manuel's guesthouse can just be seen in the background).