STONE the crows is a somewhat dated Australian expression. We have no idea what it means, however, crows are now threatening our otherwise tranquil life at Struggle Street.
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Every morning for the past month or so our sleep has been interrupted by what seems like a squadron of crows smashing onto our roof. Every morning.
And they're nothing if not creatures of habit, for it's always around 6.40am that these feathered terrorists decide to attack.
The din they make when they land is deafening. Certainly it ends this correspondent's slumber. Judging by the thud they make, these crows must be the size of Daenerys Targaryen's dragons (a bit of Game of Thrones knowledge needed for that one).
Actually, if Daenerys Targaryen was clinging to one of these infernal crows, we'd have no grounds for complaint. We'd invite her in for breakfast and what a way to start the day that'd be.
But there's no Mother of Dragons, just crows making the mother of all noise.
What's more, these crow vandals aren't content to crash land on our roof, which by now must under immense strain. No, they chortle - or whatever the noise crows make is called - for a good 10 minutes or so. We never knew a species of bird could be so vindictive.
Then they head off, their work done, leaving us to ponder yet another early start for the day's labour.
This is taking a dreadful toll. For after a 12 hour shift at this place of work, we shuffle home and collapse on the lounge. Sleep deprived, exhausted and a spent force.
The marauding crows are there seven days a week. Always at the same time. Always chortling.
Now, we have to admit, crows have never been our favourite bird. They're cranky looking things for a start.
And as youngsters, we used to call the nuns, our chief tormentors at school, crows. That was because back then they always wore black habits. What a bunch of scallywags we were.
So crows and this correspondent have some history. However, at the moment we can say the crows are winning the battle of attrition by a large margin.
But what to do about our dilemma? Is there some government agency where we can complain?
Perhaps it's not the crows' fault. Instead of stone the crows, the crows could be stoned, maybe from chewing on some illicit plants probably growing in the Struggle Street area, for nothing would surprise. Possibly we could report them to the police. What a headline: Stoned crows busted in home invasion.
So here's a challenge.
If one of the candidates in tomorrow's election can come up with a solution to our crow conundrum, then they have our vote.
That's a promise.