Seagulls are a nightmare

I’ve lived in Brighton and Hove since 1981. I’ve been surrounded by seagulls for most of my life, but somehow I’ve never really got used to them. There’s something unsettlingly prehistoric about those gnarled beaks and oversized, reptilian feet. While the feet can occasionally lend them a pleasingly comic aspect, the sheer size of the seagull makes its feelings impossible to take lightly. Their cries, so evocative from a safe distance, sound incredibly ugly at close quarters; I once lived near a nest, and it was like being trapped in an early Yoko Ono album.

Granted, the place wouldn’t be the same without them – Brighton’s seagulls are its oldest and most recognisable natives. But they brought shame on their home last month when a survey revealed that they are also the most remorselessly violent seagulls in the whole country.