I was supposed to have been the world’s first singing brontosausus, but this proved difficult because, at birth, I couldn’t sing, and I wasn’t a brontosausus. Since I wouldn’t have the life I expected, a stunning starstruck century of singing incredible chanson and eating delicious treetops, I did what everyone does when plans go awry, I made do.
I was born with the ability to sing using brontosaurus vocal chords. This doesn’t work in humans. Even so, it has given me a career: I am an animal remover. I sing, they run. So do quite a lot of people, actually. It’s not that I scare them, it’s more that I so torment their taste they have to escape.
I am employed by the East Grestin* authorities. I am happy in my job. I drive pests out, such as pigeons and tourists.
I accept freelance work. I am flexible, and, for a fee, will overlook my delicate, refined and sophisticated morals, to sing off the riff–raff.
I’m proud of my role in a famous animal documentary. I sang to some lemmings, they jumped off a cliff. Unfortunately, so did the sound engineer.