Corvinus was not a normal African Grey. Most parrots content themselves with mimicking fire alarms or swearing at the postman, but Corvinus had higher ambitions. He wanted to be a barrister.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He shared a small flat with Mr McBean, a retired Scottish geography teacher from Inverness, whose life was quiet, predictable and thoroughly dominated by the bird. Corvinus spent his days observing Mr McBean with a critical, beady eye and delivering stern commentary on the human\u2019s daily choices in a booming voice that sounded suspiciously like a High Court judge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Unlawful disposal of a tea bag,\u2019 Corvinus would squawk whenever Mr McBean missed the bin. \u2018Contempt of kitchen!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mr McBean usually ignored him, but trouble began on a soggy Thursday morning when Mrs Higgins from next door knocked. She was holding a prized gnomish ornament, or rather, the headless torso of one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018That bloody bird of yours did it, Mr McBean,\u2019 she declared, pointing a trembling, accusatory finger. \u2018He flew through my open bathroom window, landed on Sir Reginald and took his head off. It\u2019s malicious damage!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Objection!\u2019 squawked Corvinus from the top of the desk. \u2018Hearsay! Circumstantial nonsense!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Shut up, Corvinus,\u2019 Mr McBean muttered, rubbing his temples. \u2018Look, Mrs Higgins, I\u2019m sure we can resolve this over a cup of Earl Grey. There\u2019s no proof Corvinus was anywhere near your gnomes.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I have a witness!\u2019 Mrs Higgins snapped. \u2018Mr Jenkins saw a grey flash leaving my premises at eleven o\u2019clock sharp. Maybe a few minutes later.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The parrot adjusted his feathers, puffed out his chest and bobbed his head up and down. \u2018Mr Jenkins is blind in one eye and legally incompetent,\u2019 Corvinus proclaimed with terrifying clarity. \u2018The witness is unreliable. I demand an acquittal!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mrs Higgins gasped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Did that bird just impugn the character of my brother-in-law?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018He doesn\u2019t know what he\u2019s saying,\u2019 Mr McBean lied quickly, edging between Mrs Higgins and the parrot. \u2018He just repeats things from the legal dramas I watch on the telly.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I know my rights under the Theft Act 1968,\u2019 Corvinus added in a sinister whisper, leaning forward on his perch. \u2018You have no physical evidence. No DNA. No feathers at the crime scene.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mr McBean froze. He looked slowly at Corvinus, then down at Mrs Higgins\u2019s hands. Clutched in the hand holding the headless gnome was a single, unmistakable bright red tail feather.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Silence fell over the hallway. Mrs Higgins glared at the feather, then at Mr McBean and finally up at the bird. Corvinus stared at the feather. He blinked once. He blinked twice. The legal composure vanished instantly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Mistrial!\u2019 Corvinus shrieked, launching himself into the air and flying at top speed towards the kitchen. \u2018Tampering with evidence! I\u2019ve been framed by the cat!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It took Mr McBean two hours, a packet of custard creams and a promise to replace Sir Reginald with a superior, solar-powered gnome to pacify Mrs Higgins. Corvinus spent the rest of the afternoon hiding behind the bread bin, occasionally muttering about appealing to the European Court of Human Rights, but he ultimately accepted a plea bargain that involved three days of reduced sunflower seeds and no telly after eight o\u2019clock.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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