I never thought I'd say this, but I'm seriously thinking of calling Gullbusters.
As I may have mentioned before, the seagulls here on Ramsgate's newly fashionable East Cliff have bloated up to the size of standard poodles, now that they've discovered the feast of leftover smoked salmon and caviar to be had by clawing their way into the bin bags deposited on the pavements every Thursday morning.
And now it's the mating season, their taste in nesting material appears to have gone upmarket too.
Puzzled this afternoon by a loud squawk from the back garden, I rushed out just in time to see half a brick descend from the heavens with a thud onto the perfectly manicured lawn. This gargantuan piece of masonry had evidently been dropped by a passing gull, on its way to its nesting site.
Well, actually, on closer inspection it turned out to be half a Dundee cake, but, I mean, it could still have done someone a really nasty injury.
I would therefore advise any millionaire thinking of venturing outside in the coming few weeks not to do so without first donning a hard hat.