A one -eyed vulture called Les was sitting astride an old tree trunk, felled during an all night elephant rave, he wasn,t looking forward to today’s task of teaching a class of would be emigrant vultures on western values and habits. Little did the vultures know that Les had been hired by European gang masters who would be using them as slaves when they arrived at their destination.

Les had been hired for the job because he had once worked as a butler for Hannibal Lecter and had lost his eye when he forgot the cherry for the top of his strawberry sundae. He had barely escaped with his life when Hannibal had found out that he had taken a part – time job with the organ donation service.

Les stood up to speak and call the class to order just as a St. Trinian’s school party , that had won the safari in an illegal game of chase the transvestite,having previously locked their headmistress in the larder and betting the entire school’s gratuity on the outcome.

Seeing their chance to capture the vultures, stretch them in the sun and dry them out to use them as hockey sticks in their up and coming match with the Upper-Bottomly “Derby and Joan club,” they decided to creep up on their prey. A third- former, called Sarah Windass (whose name will soon become clear) was pulled from the bus and carried through the undergrowth. When they were within “strike distance” she was disrobed forced to eat twelve cans of baked beans and four cases of shot gun cartridges. As soon as the pressure had built to the required intensity the girls took her legs and aimed at the vultures. The fusilade was deadly and a rank odour filled the air as the vultures fell, Les felt a sharp pain in the parson’s nose and immediately took to the air.

Looking back he knew the game was up and he decided to flee. After flying for what seemed like hours , Les spotted a familiar silhouette on the distant skyline…. he knew from the flight pattern it was Clarice Starling , his old love from his days in service when she worked as a psychological profiler for the C.I.A and was trying to find evidence to convict his boss. As all the old feelings began to return he set off in pursuit. Soon he sighted Clarice flying over a ship , where she had booked passage , he upped his wing-beats in a desperate effort to catch up but didn’t see the funnel looming ever closer. Bang … his head shook as he collided head on and fell stone-like to the deck.

When he came round , he thought he was in heaven as he stared up straight into the eye’s of Clarice. They spent the next few days blissfully catching up, reliving their fledgling days until the fatal last night as they approached harbour. As Les tried to catch some sleep, his old boss, Hannibal appeared in his slumber, the words “ kill…..kill….kill” kept forcing their way into his mind.

He crept into Clarice’s room armed with an old broken wing bone and stabbed Clarice repeatedly, removed her liver and began to cook it on the radiator and ate it,washing it down with a can of irn bru. The next day, unable to cope with the grief of what he had done, he took to the air. After a few minutes he began to feel seriously queasy, he hadn’t known about Clarice,s hepatitis.

In the distance he heard a loud clamour and decided to investigate……a parade was approaching. He had never seen anything of the like so started to hover to get a better view,

the pain in his stomach was getting violently worse, as the parade passed below he convulsed and the live bullet lodged in his spleen was propelled out through his beak and thrown earthward, hitting  Kennedy in the back of the skull and lodging in his signed photograph of Marilyn Monroe , killing him instantly…HONEST