If I believed in miracles, I’d call it a miracle. As I don’t believe in miracles, I’ll call it what it is: an egg, a really weird-looking egg.
After months and months of waiting for the slugabed chooks – formerly the Four Hens of the Apocalypse, now the Three Stooges – to do their jobs, one of our trio of feathered shirkers finally got to work last week. And you should have