Malone wonders what her neighbours are up to
Only in Brighton would I answer the doorbell to someone bellowing through the intercom: “Who’s got the chickens!?”
I don’t know what to say…
Are we talking roasted? Are we taking about an Iceland wrong delivery? Or is it someone trying to locate a flock of living chickens by ringing people’s doorbells and just asking? I live in a small one bed flat in inner Brighton. It’s rare to have a balcony never mind a garden; who would have the chickens?
“I don’t have space for my own limbs in this flat, never mind squawking birds”
I don’t have space for chickens, I don’t have space for my own limbs in this flat, never mind squawking birds.
In a recession, however hungry I became for home grown protein, I don’t think I’d ever resort to keeping my own chickens, garden or not. In fact, farm or not! I’m looking into my basement neighbour’s garden, I can see they do not ‘have the chickens’. Now I too want to know, who does have these chickens?
The voice through the intercom says: “They are escaping and I’ve caught one!” I tell her I don’t know… I’m wondering if she is another Brighton nutter making mischief on my doorbell. Hey, I’m just relieved it’s not Jehovah’s Witnesses ringing my doorbell inviting me to welcome God into my heart. I’ve got so much good in my heart, I haven’t got room for a god. I hope He understands if a time comes when I need to explain this to Him.
The voice through the intercom informs she is from the RSPCA and I notice her RSPCA card has been put through the door. ‘Who’s got the chickens?’ is written on it. This woman is obsessed. Hmm. It does seem pretty authentic. I text all my neighbours in the flats: ‘Who’s got the chickens?’ I sound like a mad woman neighbour who lives alone.
The only neighbour with outdoor space that I can’t see into is my above neighbours, (they have a balcony)… Again I text: ‘Have you got the chickens!?’ It seems plausible, after all, they do hula hoop, play the saxophone and have open log fires in a city flat conversion. But I thought they were vegan…
After a long delay in response, which felt like a text equivalent of a naughty kid shuffling their feet around while staring at the floor, they replied: ‘Yes…They’re for a film shoot!’. I knew it.
This is why I love Brighton. In London no-one would ring my doorbell demanding to know where the chickens were. In London perhaps my doorbell would be rung to ask me if I had seen the face in the photofit in the vicinity. In the countryside no-one, not even friends, would ring the doorbell, would they? They’d just walk right in banging on about fowl. I’m considering keeping a sheep just to weird out my neighbours/RSPCA one Saturday morning. “Right, who’s got the sheep?!”
