Mostly you hear him coming long before the bright and flowing flourish which is his body floats across the speedway. Being that he is a dandy from Kensington, he much prefers the moniker Budgie, to the more pedestrian Keet. An avid smoker of Players and Dunhill’s, Parakeet Green would never be seen puffing menthols or rolled tobacco, at least not in public.
There has been some debate as to the “provenance” of his color, some suggesting a more pearlescent green suffused with what could only be described as lemon zest, while others have identified a downy tangerine streak lurking just under the surface. Parakeet Green deigns to position himself on either side of the debate, preferring instead to remain discreetly and luminously fluid, a verifiable mélange of bursting color, proffering something for everyone who turns to gaze upon this Avian Extraordinaire.
Parakeet Green can often be found posing for photos with ardent admirers in and around St. James’s Park with its view of Buckingham Palace, alongside all manner of other feathered detractors including the hideous and ubiquitous pigeon with its ever-bobbing disco-ball head, the dunnock, a common accentor of low flying means and unremarkable breeding, and the fierce little coal tit, circling the highlands in masked abandon in response to the calls of the tawny owl.
Parakeet Green is secretly searching for a counterpart in high society, a budgerigar of impeccable breeding, mischievous and ever loquacious, a BIRD among birds, a partner in crime, a downy compatriot with whom to pass the time, and what a time it will be! Soaring over the headlands, wing to wing, to finally eschew the mandatory “tea sessions,” the endless chatter of gossip and mean-spirited gibes, countless visits to the Queen, sitting on her shoulder and forever trying hard not to poop!
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