Q: What exactly is a Buzzard?

A: Oh for god's sake. Seriously -- is this an accurate demonstration of how up to speed you are? Is there anything else I can fill you in on? The name of the current Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland? The precise location of your nose?

Jesus... OK, if you insist...

On your birthday one of the many things your friends and relatives can do - to demonstrate their sickening, cloying love for you - is to pay for the services of a Birthday Buzzard. We arrive, grumpy and underslept, at the location of their choice (most often the shabby little hovel you call home) and upon entering we proceed to criticise your life, at length, in sarcastic and often vituperative terms. It's a very popular service.


Q: Where and how can I book a Buzzard?

A: Last time I checked, humanity was about to crawl painfully into the second decade of the 21st century. Most of us can conjure up the tiniest sliver of independent thought now and then, and beyond the childhood teething phase the vast majority of us can demonstrate a capacity for rational deduction -- which brings me slamming into the fact that, even outside the confines of our own species, there are chimpanzees in laboratories across the known earth, peppered with electrodes and tapping at laptops, who after the shortest burst of basic IT training can muster the resources to do a SIMPLE FUCKING GOOGLE SEARCH. Is this seriously beyond your faculties? Bloody hell. What's your dayjob? Do you work as a speedbump?

 
Q: Why do you call yourselves Buzzards when you're obviously designed to resemble a vulture?
 
A: Why do you call yourself human when you're obviously designed to resemble a potato?

 
Q: Who do I talk to if I have a complaint relating to my Buzzarding?
 
A: Given that this is modern Britain I'd suggest cutting to the chase and doing what everyone ends up doing whenever they have a grievance about anything: shout ineptly at inanimate objects, before entering into an enormous sulk.

I don't know if you've noticed, but no-one is responsible for anything any longer... unless, that is, you owe a corporate body any amount of money, in which case every fucker is right up you like a mongoose tunnelling into an ants' nest. However, if you, the general public, get short-circuited by the ineptitude or general apathy of any supposed 'service', you can forget any satisfaction from the moment that you first become aware your reserved train seat doesn't actually exist, or your package hasn't arrived, or your MP has been bundled off to prison. The Buzzard corporation is exactly the same. Deference, rectitude, humility? Forget about it. It won't come. No-one cares. Just go and bash your head against the nearest table instead. Statutory rights? Whatever. Do field mice talk about statutory rights as the combine harvester whisks them into a pinkish gloop? You get my drift.

Anyway. The legal department are scanning this FAQ and telling me to give you a 'sensible' answer, so here goes.

If you have any issues about our service (either standard domestic or Excelsior business packages) please direct your queries to the national Ombudsbuzzard at the address on our main website.

What's that you say? You can't find the main website? Well there's a thing.

 
Q: I think Buzzarding is a stale, out-dated tradition that over the decades has become increasingly meaningless and focussed upon material returns, much like the anachronistic rituals and routines of Christmas. What began as an annual examination of mortality on a very personal level has become a perfunctory, almost comedic flap through any given person's shortcomings, without any proper examination of their more profound faults and failings. What's your response to that?
 
A: Yeah. You're probably right. Hey -- do you want a job?

 
Q: I had a Buzzard last birthday and he was, like, really FUNNY!? Are Buzzards always really FUNNY? LOL!!
 
A: Please fuck off immediately.

 
Q: Why has the Buzzard corporation started doing public shows?
 
A: Good question. I don't know.

Given that we're constantly on show, that we're always seen wearing the costume in public? Good question. What purpose can these sort of events possibly serve? My own theory: some manager, somewhere in the Buzzard corp, doubted the security of their position and felt compelled to do something 'proactive', no matter how useless and ill-informed it proved in the long run. This sort of thing happens in large organisations all the time. They probably had a 'brainstorm', 'concept melge' or 'ideas buffet', or whatever it is that consultants like to call such wankery these days, then some middle management gimp will have half-heartedly touted the idea of a "public-facing outreach initiative" and hey presto, before you can say "arse-fudge waste of everyone's time," you've got a major arse-fudging waste of everyone's time.

 
Q: How do you learn how to be a Buzzard?
 
A: Let's put it this way: roughly 83% of everything in the world is utter, irredeemable crap. Just train yourself to tune out the remaining 17%, and you're halfway there.