Yell, Day V Lately, and P is for Puffin, Page 474

Puffins in Reading

Recently, my employer — Yell Group — invited employees in Berkshire and across the UK to submit a response to the following question:

If you could yell for anything for one day, what would it be and why?

Reading-based Yell are continuing their Day V Lately advertising campaign, in which a DJ seeks out his one-hit wonder by way of the great Yell machine doing its thing.

This contest plays on that theme, in the sense that whomever wins the contest gets VIP entry to a 90s ‘pop up’ shop in London next Thursday. You can trade music at the shop — vinyl, CDs, whatever. There will be 90s music dance lessons and other general cheese, plus a free trip to London with hotel and food included. (Free food? I am easily motivated!)

I submitted my entry today. On behalf of puffins everywhere, I hope you enjoy:

P is for Puffin, Page 474

(a short story by Patrice, starring Gucci, my friend Katie’s new parakeet…)

“Puffin! It’s a Puffin!”

I yelled, yipped and puffed with delight at the postcard. It was signed by one Mr Paddy Puffin, of Puffin Island, Scotland. It was stamped with a puff, a puff of love.

“It cannae be, but it is! A pleasant puffin has sent the great greetings of puffin lovin’ from afar.”

Wouldn’t it be nice to have a puffin, always? I pulled out the Yellow Pages and perused P for puffin.

“Puffin, puffin, puffin… P, p, p… P as in page, page 474… Public liability insurance, public relations consultants, pubs, pumps…”

I could scarcely place a puffin.

“No puffins!” I cried, my eyes puffing with tears of puffin-less sadness.

Thankfully, I had Gucci to put me right.

“Yell.com, squawk, big birds use Yell.com!” piped Gucci, my pet parakeet.

So I poked along to Yell.com, and watched as Gucci pecked P-U-F-F-I-N.

Suddenly we had a whole list of puffin providers:

• Puffin Pools… pish!
• Puffin Insulation… pwah!
• Puffin Balloons… pop!
• Starida Puffin Island Cruises & Fishing… presto perfect puffin pizzazz!

“That’s the one! That’s the one!” I piped up.

Gucci picked up the phone and pecked 118 24 7.

“Puffin, puffin! Squawk squawk. Parakeet pick a puffin!”

Gucci got so carried away she dropped the phone. She then picked up her pet, which happens to be me, a petite penguin.

“Parakeet in the sky, squawk, I can fly twice as high!” sang Gucci, who had learned all her words from watching Reading Rainbow and browsing Yell.com.

Minutes later, wrapped in Gucci’s wing, we set out to follow the stars to Starida Puffin Island. Two pals soon to be three, we pondered the moment we would find the perfect puffin for a persistent parakeet and poetic penguin who patter in prose.