The residents of ‘Elderado Crescent’ were all early risers, not through choice but because of the cockerel at number two. It started crowing every morning at about five o’clock even though it was still dark.

     Number two was the one property that let down the standard of the Crescent. Nobody liked the Gypsies who lived there amongst the scrap cars and assorted junk, but they had bought the house for cash when the previous owners had to sell. As well as the scrap they had chickens and two dogs whose sole purpose in life seemed to be barking like crazy at everybody who dared to walk past their house.

     Mick McCann, the scouser from number four, christened the family ‘The Smiths’ on the grounds that every gypsy he had ever known was called Smith. So Smithy’s was the name of the house as well. Complaints about the noise were treated with contempt by Smithy with comments like “It’s only natural ennit”.


Lydia from number eight attempted to get a petition up about their selfish lifestyle but after the massive indifference she received she gave up.

     “You would think that they would consider the rest of us” she said to Mick.

      “Ah but dey don’t do dat do dey” was his typical scouse statement.


      One Saturday morning there was a tremendous hullabaloo at number two, it seemed that the chickens were all loose in the garden, the dogs were locked in their compound and a fox had got in. The chickens were scattered everywhere around the Crescent and Smithy was running around trying to round them up. Mick was out with him catching as many as he could but frightened chickens can be extremely quick. Eventually they found the ones that were left and after a head count, which was quite difficult for a man who couldn’t count, Smithy reckoned that one chicken was missing and his beloved cockerel. “I’ll go round the houses asking for you if you like but I reckon that fox had ‘em” said Mick.


      Knocking the door at number one, he was greeted by Jeremy, one of the gay pair of hairdressers.

     “Have you seen Smithy’s cock?” he asked

     “Chance would be a fine thing” said Jeremy with a wink.

     “Who is it chuck?” Raymonde asked from the bedroom

     “Only Mick, he wants to know if we’ve seen Smithy’s cock”.

     Laughter shrilled down the stairs

     “Tell him no but if there’s a showing I’m free about two o’clock”.

After fruitlessly trying all the houses asking the same question and chuckling to himself at the different reactions, Mick returned to Smithy.

     “No luck I’m afraid old lad Mr Fox will have had a good dinner”

     Smithy thanked him for trying and went indoors.


     The next morning was absolute bliss, no blasted cockerel! Everybody slept in, dogs weren’t taken out until late, breakfasts were at nine o’clock instead of seven and everybody in the Crescent was in a happy mood.

     At lunchtime most of the residents met up in the pub, a traditional English style Sunday lunchtime drink for the men folk while their good ladies prepared the Sunday lunch at home. A few games of darts and general humorous chat about Smithy’s lost cock especially Mick’s story about Jeremy and Raymonde. At about one thirty they started to walk back to the Crescent. The conversation was about what they were having for lunch.

     “Roast beef and all the trimmings” said Dave.

     “Roast pork, apple sauce for me” said Terry “What have you got Mick?”

 Mick looked at them and with a smile on his face he said

     “Me, I’ve got ROAST CHICKEN!!”


605 words Michael White 2020

  • Tony
    Posted at 17:58h, 10 February Reply

    Good story but the cock might put some readers off. Good for a lads mag though

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