Posh bit of London , and yuppie takes up too much space with his SUV van driver gives not a fuck and gets close enough to mate with it
Back in the fifties, my Grandfather found an injured Sparrowhawk. He nursed it and they bonded. He trained it to the fist. That eventually got him into falconry. He often took me onto Dartmoor with his Peregrines. Fantastic days.
Ah, yes - line slingers/dockies. Many is the time we've sat thrusting against the wall waiting for the (pre-booked) slackers to finally turn up. Guess the Andrew gets the courtesy of on-time, on-target.