A friend of a friend was asked by her gran to look after her budgie so the old dear could keep her usual Wednesday-afternoon appointment with the hairdresser.

The young woman decided to bird-sit with her new boyfriend, and as they waved the elderly lady off, he came up with the idea to give the bird a treat, reasoning that it must have been ages since it had been allowed to fly around.

After checking that no doors or windows were open and that the cat was out of the room, he opened the cage door and encouraged the bird to stretch its wings. The timid thing took some enticing, so long ago had it last tasted freedom, but then it gathered itself, sidled over to the door, and burst upwards, flying and flapping around in a small feathery frenzy.

Alas, its over-enthusiasm, combined with a novice's grasp of aerobatics, proved costly. For in a crazed bid for even greater liberty, it flew head-long at the large double-glazed patio doors, smashed into the glass and tumbled to the floor.

Luckily, it was still alive, though its leg was quite clearly broken. What would Granny say! The young couple resolved to apply first-aid and come clean with her. Ingeniously, the bloke produced a box of matches from his pocket and, taking a reel of cotton, delicately bound one stick around the distraught budgie's damaged leg as a splint. Then he gently lowered the bird back inside its cage.

Tragically, the boyfriend had not known about the sandpaper floor of the cage, and as the poor budgerigar shuffled over to nibble its dried cuttlefish, the match struck, and the poor thing was engulfed in flames.