What do birds eat for breakfast?
Tweetabix? Cock pops, quite possibly? Sugar puffins? Or an owl of
And for lunch or dinner?
Chicken chat served with Dijon bustard, a mynah grebe salad and a finch of
salt, all washed down with a swift bittern?
Too much to swallow, perhaps? If I could find an adept cuckoo could pull it
off, the critics would be raven about it!
(Incidentally, one of my favourite clues ever was by the late, great
Bunthorne: ‘Bird, but not a blue tit? (9)’*
But what does all the rest of this have to do with crosswords?
Well, having peeped warily past the dark curtain of the parallel universe
frequented by us despicable setters, I strongly feel it’s time for us all to
join the real world (if indeed there is one).
Tweeting has arrived. Frankly, I don’t understand it. But many lovely people
have been kind enough to follow me, and the least I can do in their honour
is to spend a little time spouting nonsense in a weekly blog.
So do please tell me what you’d like to hear about from the world of cryptic
crossword setting. Thank you!