Bit late this week, but this prompt led to this contemporary piece

The Right To Protest

‘What do you think you’re doing sonny?’ Constable Jimmy Strength crouched down to the same height as the chicken. ‘You one of those road crosser protesters?’

The chicken gave him the side-eye; which wasn’t really a surprise; its what chickens do. ‘And?’

‘Not a good day to choose, hen.’ PC Jimmy Shelter, proud Geordie who’d failed to attend his EDI training again checked every which way.

‘It’s cock to you?’

‘No need to be rude.’

‘And you could be a bit more sensitive to my choice of gender. Hen, indeed. Anyway, it’s my name.’

PC Strength stood, his knees mimicking an empty crisp packet being crushed. ‘Look, cock, you can’t cross. Not today.’

Cock fluffed his feathers. ‘Why? You worried I’ll leave footprints on the sand?’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s just we can’t have you halfway across the road and some carriage crushes you. Not a good look.’

‘Too right. All that bleating about the right to protest and first chance we get to cross a road in front of the world’s press and you squash the protester. Hardly the sort of image a modern, all inclusive democracy wants to portray.’

‘Look, my old cock…’

‘It’s Mr A’doodle-do to you, matey.’

‘None of us give a flying feather if you cross, spin a cartwheel or sing Verdi’s Requiem, you can’t cross here, today.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s the Coronation and his Maj will be past any moment.’

‘Exactly. Puts me in the spotlight, gets my message out about the need for safe spaces for chickens to cross roads…’

‘His Maj is happy for you to promote road safety for all fowl. Except today.’

‘Again why?’

‘Netflix.’

‘You what?’

‘His Royal Personage has signed a deal with the streaming service. One of the conditions is that he’ll only promote his Coronation Quiche until his cookery episode is broadcast. Can’t have his biggest day and all their rivals crowing about a Coronation Chicken taking part in the ceremony, especially if his carriage splattered you all over the Mall. Be a rather visceral way to show his contempt for his mother’s choice of coronation nosh.’

Cock A’doodle-do tilted his head to one side. ‘You telling me that if I was a goose or swan or, god forbid a duck and you’d let me cross?’

‘Yep.’

‘Right. Well, I’m self identifying as a guinea fowl. You can’t stop me now.’

‘What do you think, Jimmy?’

‘He’s got a point.’

‘Bit bird brained.’

‘Within his rights, though.’

‘All right. Off you trot.’

‘Oh that’s nice. I was just thinking better about our Metropolitan’s finest and there you go, displaying your institutional bias towards pigs. I strut, I don’t trot.’

‘Are you going to cross the bloody road?’

‘No, I don’t think I am.’

PC Jimmy Strength and PC Jimmy Shelter turned away. As they headed for the Abbey, Jimmy One said, ‘That’s the trouble with birds. Can’t make up their mind.’

Jimmy Two shook his head. ‘You can’t say that, Jimmy. It’s sexist.’