Well, it doesn't feel very lucky

I was sitting on the grass outside the Tate Modern at lunchtime, with my book, looking at one of my fellow al fresco readers.

I was thinking how, with her copy of Daphne Du Maurier's The Birds and her empty packet of chicken sandwich, she was pretty much asking to be attacked by pigeons.

Five minutes later, it was I who had been ornithologically shat on, both literally and metaphorically.

That's showbiz, as Alfred Hitchcock would almost certainly not have said.