Superman & the Bigoted Parrot

So on the many jobs on my CV,at this time I'm a landscape gardener self employed working with my other namesake & co worker Martin Letham. So why spiderman & parrots? Well on this particular day Martin & I are working on a driveway & patio for Mark Millar. Mark came out to ask us if we wanted a coffee interrupting a slagging match between me & Martin due to the forth coming old firm game. This was the first time I had met our client Mark & after we had sorted out sugars & milk Mark & I realized we'd knew each other from our clubbing days & we shared some memories of pubs, clubs & frolics.

The conversation then moved to Marks career. Mark was now writing for marvel comics & from what I got he was very successful being drafted in to save failing storylines. I actually found out later he was being very modest & he was now being hailed as he new Stan Lee.
Between typical Glasgow humour & tribal separation we'd managed to figure out whether Mark was a Tim or not & lucky for me Mark was Celtic daft so it was two too one Martin being the lone Ranger.

It was during this extended coffee break that things got bizarre.

Let me set the scene. It's a scorcher of a spring morning. Mark, Martin & I are standing in Mark's now renovated front garden that Martin & myself had transformed setting the world to rights in the suburban south side of Glasgow with a 'Friday post old firm battle buzz feeling'. With scene set Marks is telling us about how he is writing Superman & is portraying the 'baddy' as a Rangers fan, which is not something someone tells you they're doing to earn a crust that often. At this moment not to sound cliché with the superman convo I look to the sky behind Martin & Mark & see a huge red winged creature flying slowly towards us & I do the finger point & say “what the fu..” Before they could turn round to see what I'm pointing at there lands on Martin's shoulder this massive red parrot.

Martin is now looking like a very uncomfortable pirate with a stiff neck franticly asking “wit is it, wit is it ?” with wide eyes trying to look through his ear. Mark & I are in stitches of laughter tears streaming down our faces in chorus shouting “it's a parrot, a red fuckin Parrot mate”. After getting over the shock Martin slowly nervously heads into Marks house & with the yellow pages to hand the RSPB are on there way. During this time a massive lorry turns up & can't get past our trailer on the narrow road & rather than ask me the driver proceeds to "fucking" tell me to “move my fuckin trailer” to which I loose the plot & shout “here ya fanny wait the fuck up we cannae move it right away my mates in there way a parrot oan his shooder & he's the driver”. Martin managed to get the parrot off his shoulder & perched on a chair. Martin moves the trailer to the bemused arsehole of a drivers delight to get away from this mental situation.

After an hour the RSPB turn up tell us that the parrot is an African something or other & they'd check their records to see if anyone had lost one & off they went with the parrot. The joke now was why did it goto Martin to which we could only fathom that our African winged friend was a hun.

A few days later the parrot was returned to his owners who had lost their Parrot 2 days previous & were ecstatic to find their feathered friend which by the way turns out to be a massive Celtic fan. This parrot could sing “Hail Hail” & can whistle "you'll never walk alone" so our hun theory was well out the window.
Martin ended up in the local paper pictured with his new Celtic friend & happy owners but was asked by Mark not to mention him as this was his third move into his new house due to problems with freaky weird comic book fans/stalkers. Mark is now massively respected in the comic book world & also went on to write films such as “Wanted” & “Kickass”. Martin went back to the more lucrative world of electronics.

Oh & by the way Rangers won one nil too Martins delight.......bloody parrot.