Typography & design by
Richard Wolfströme

Exhibition and installation
by Standard 8

Website
Words William Shaw
Design Richard Wolfströme
Photography Kenny Laurenson

Publishing consultant Adrian Driscoll

An Unmadeup Production

...the bird flutters a little way off and stands, looking at them stupidly

The Gloucester, Gloucester Place

"Look," says Drew. "A penguin."

"What?" says Scuff, looking around, puzzled.

"A penguin!" "Where?" "Over there."

Scuff sees the bird. "Oh, you mean a pigeon."

"Yeah."

They are both very drunk indeed. Tuesdays Drew comes over from Littlehampton to go out with Scuff. He usually brings a litre of Frosty Jack to get them in the mood. Tonight they had two. It’s the sort of drink where have to hold your nose if you want to get it down. Then, like every Tuesday, they went to the Gloucester for the music and the pints of snakebite and black.

They emerged late from the heat of the club into a clear frosty night. Scuff couldn’t be bothered to walk home to Kemptown, it
was too cold, so they made their way towards the London Road cashpoint for a tenner for the taxi.

The journey took a little while. On the way, feeling friendly, Drew found a telephone box, picked up the handset and dialled the operator. "How are you?" he asked. "What’s your name?"

It is after that, Drew notices the pigeon. What is a pigeon doing up at this time of night? At this time of night even seagulls are in bed.

Disapproving, Drew suggests, "Let’s chase it."

At the time, it seems like an idea; so they do, running after it down the pavement. But every time they get close the bird
flutters a little way off and stands, looking at them stupidly.

Scuff makes a lunge for it, but tonight it’s a hard frost. There is ice on the pavement. Scuff slips, his leg twisting backwards. He falls awkwardly.

The pigeon eyes him. Scuff returns the gaze, laughing. The quantity of alcohol he has drunk deadens the pain.

Drew isn’t greatly sympathetic. He continues chasing the pigeon which is now luring him out onto the road. Scuff lies
on the cold pavement watching as a car hurtles past Drew, missing him.

Two days later when he finally gets to hospital, they will tell Scuff he has broken his fibula, writing drily on his notes: "Broke leg chasing pigeon."