When I saw the subheading on a Country Diary about parakeets saying that the “new kings of the urban jungle divide opinion” (11 January), I believed I was about to read a welcome discussion about how best to cook these garish and intensely annoying avian hooligans. Was there a row between the traditionalists, who would roast them with a dash of brandy, and the more adventurous, who might favour spicy soups and stews?
Sadly, no. Your diarist, Lev Parakeet – er, I mean Lev Parikian – is a fence-sitter, according to the headline. Good, good, I thought – deep fried or grilled, Lev? But instead, he states that they bring a certain flashiness and “exuberance” to the parks and gardens of the capital. Perhaps he has a more interesting breed of original-thinking parakeets down his way in south London. Up here north of the Thames, we have the shouty, overconfident, screechy, stupidly loud and extrovert kind.
