An Earl’s parrot sits alone after the theft of his compatriot.
There once lived a pair of brothers — newly of their manhood at ages 19 and 22 — who, one night, came upon an idea so brilliant, so grand, so capital that, were it not guided by blood alcohol content, one might almost call it revolutionary.
“How wonderful it would be,” they thought (but perhaps not phrased exactly like that), “to have a gigantic parrot of our very own!”
Unfortunately, a dilemma quickly befell the brothers’ plan: “What establishment in our fair city would be able to fulfill such a dream, especially in the wee hours of this fine morning?”
Then, like a birthday candle suddenly igniting above their collective brain, the epiphany struck: “Why, Earl’s eating and libation establishment displays TWO such gigantic parrots perched atop their building! Surely to goodness, they wouldn’t miss one! Oh, joy of joys!”
Up, up, they rose, like sky-bound balloons, except by scrabbling up the side of the building instead of using helium. A momentary struggle against the shackles of sound construction, and then . . . success! One gigantic parrot would soon have a happy, warm home in the brothers’ abode.
Their plan would have been the stuff of legend . . . a deed worthy of song . . . had it only succeeded.
However, Victoria police were alerted to the two drunk guys hauling around a massive fibreglass bird, and chucked ’em in a cell for the night to sober up.