Wednesday Wing: Chicken Soup

I recently had the whole of London Fields round for dinner and wanted to serve some choice chicken leg cuts a la these Bin Bones. I'd fed them to my nana and she has more vitality than ever and says her hip hasn't stirred since then either. But I went back to the halal trash and all I could find was this chicken soup. The ringworm noodles were an inspired addition. Bon appetite...

Thursday Thigh: Radical Council

With winter fast approaching, Tower Hamlets has an ingenious plan to halt the icy danger on our roads. Fuck salt grit they said; it's expensive and in short supply. The plan now is to just dump late-night chicken junk all over the road in the hope it'll freeze in place and make y'all slow down. Peeing and dumping on our streets is now legal between November and March. Hallelujah!

Thursday Thigh: Notting Hill Carnival

If there is anywhere in London chicken bones will be rife for a party, it's Notting Hill Carnival. It's really the only reason to go apart from getting shot, stabbed or to have a quick acid shower. These little carnival goers are hot toeing it with the best floats and parade people like they own the event. The top shot shows the lengths these bones will go to to make the carnival a memorable event. Thanks to avid boner kittydonks for risking her bones to get these lush snaps.

Friday Feast: Pilgrimage to Maccas

There is a cross-european bone fight happening. There are only a few followers at this stage, but these London bones are making the trip to Berlin to picket outside McDonalds. The reason for this sacred trip: Ronald has the bone monopoly in Germany. McWings are the only fried chicken in Deutschland, and these protesters want a fair deal for chicken lovers. They are currently in the Chunnel, so all you French bones meet them at the other end and join the chooky communist conga and make your took-tooks heard.

Tuesday Treat: 3D Bones

These kids are practising for their audition for Step Up 3D. They got the moves, the turf, and the look. But unfortunately they lost out to a z-grade bone. Cassie-the-brown-poo-rock-lobster from Home and Away. Don't let it get you down bones. Pirahana 3D is out soon, and I'm sure there are ample bone extras needed for that.

Monday Meal: Bonefiti

Shoefiti is an age old tradition, harking back to the golden days of drug use. Apparently it designated a crack house was in the vicinity, and one fable says it even symbolised heroin use: once you inject your first hit, you can never 'leave'. Well I have discovered the next big thing in 'fiti': bonefiti. The act of throwing your bones atop a bus shelter. It signifies an A-grade chicken dealer is at the next stop. I guess there must also be a Pasta Hut coming up here too. Now you know why the streetside seats on the double-deckers are always full...

Sunday Snackbox: Bone Fraud

Nigerian scammers on Gumtree have nothing on this sly bones. If you used this cash point outside FCKF on Old Street a few weeks ago then you're probably sitting at the entrance to the station with a dog and a creased, empty Subway coffee cup with a few pence in it. Through a hi-tech system of strategically placed mirrors and a strip reader, these bones are now spending your life savings on an endless holiday in Hawaii smashing mojitos and doing the limbo with heaps of chicks.

Saturday Salmonella: Crack Gypsies Meth Emporium

This is the East Ends best kept secret. Every Friday the 13th, the Crack Gypsies sell all their little precious keepsakes. This is one of their popup stalls, and you'll find them any where between E2 and E9. There are some hell rare goodies on offer in this junkie's skunk wheeler. Bags and coats for the ladies, plenty of latenight thirst quenching drinks and some of the best food you'll find this side of Grange Hill. Haggle away, just don't get stuck with a needle as you rifle through looking for that one-off piece of magic.

Saturday Salmonella: Bone Alley

My street is a magnet for piles of junk like this. In fact the bucket, holiday and healthy bones are just some of the delights I get to walk past on my way to Paradise Cottage to get my chicken breakfast. There are signs all the way down saying "NO DUMPING", so this shouldn't be happening. Maybe the signs mean you can glue yourself to the wall when you know your girlfriends going to breakup with you, cos they ain't being obeyed by anyone else.

Friday Feast: Street Bucket

I almost felt like gathering up all the bits of this installation and freezing them to show my friends and family for the next 60 years. Maybe even glue it all together, cover it with a sheen and cherish it on the mantlepiece and start a family heirloom to be handed down to the next 3 generations. I needed to do something as its pretty much the most peaceful thing I've seen since I stepped over the high homeless lady at Bethnal Green tube last week. In the end I settled for a quick poo in the bucket, so the next person couldn't enjoy it as much as I did. Unless they were some feral sick fuck.

Thursday Thigh: Basement Break-in

This sneaky bone is trying to break into an underground bucket rave. Its still daylight, and the pingers are 8 hours from being dropped, but he hasn't got the secret herbs and spices password for entry. His other mates are already in, hiding in the speakers. They gave this wing wrong directions though: through the mouth of the face, 6 bits of glass up. Otherwise you drop in the urinal and get pissed on by shrivelled drug dicks all night.

Wednesday Wing: Squished Family Pack

This is far and away the best smushed meal I've come across. It's picture perfect, but a real shame, as there is probably some horrible story associated with it. I'm guessing either crutchman beat up a kid taking home his families dinner for some meth shrazza, or there was a hit an run which went awry. Maybe the chicken was the reason for the homicide. Jealousy perhaps? Either way, I should have drawn a chalk line around it, and then had a feast...

Tuesday Treat: Gutter Gang

It's just getting ridiculous now. There is always a ciggie butt or five around every pile of abandoned chicken scraps. Smoking and wings must be like Romeo and Juliet; an unrequited love of all street wise kids these days. The carwash flyer is a strange addition to the junk though. Maybe it was so greasy, a cut and polish with a bonus fragrant tree hanger was the only way to freshen up before hittin' the clubs looking for real breasts and boxes? The 'CHICK' sign alerted me to this debris.

Monday Meal: Bird Bone

We are always so hard on pigeons. They are pretty much the crappest part of society, but they usually do a better job cleaning up the streets than the useless twats who are paid to do it. But this bird AMAZED me. Check out his magic trick. He rocks up, eats the bone and shits it straight out again in under 5 seconds. Now the street sweeper has to pick up the bone and the shit. Sucked in.

Sunday Snackbox: Crime Bones

This is a right old whodunnit. That is blood next to the fork, not ketchup slop. Maybe the drunk dickhead stabbed themselves in the mouth as they were eating, which made them smash their Stella for miles, and drop their dinner. Solved: It was Colonel Bitchtits, on Great Eastern Street with a Fork. I ALWAYS win Cluedo.

Saturday Salmonella: Cup of Tramp Piss

I could have easily set this up and put a bone in the cup. But that would have meant unleashing a worse stench than the Dalston Market. Plus if a drop of that putrid vagrant jello got on me I would probably still be pooing out my mouth.

Friday Feast: Bin Dinner

There is so much to take in from the this shot. This is better than standing in line at the Colonels crack den perusing his menu. Do you want the worst coffee in the world to swish in your mouth with your chicken meal? Or go the healthy option? I know I want a Mr. Freeze for desert to fuck up my sensitive, rotting, meth teeth. Thats a given...

Thursday Thigh: Grandma Bone

Any of you prudish twats who complain this isn't a valid bone think about this for a sec: There is clearly a bone of some description, some wrinkly seasoned skin, a few thighs and breasts (?!?) too and to top it off a crusty old street box. It could actually be a bucket, but I haven't been to the site to check the g-snatch out up close. And to top it off this is the scene of this fine snack crime y'all enjoyed a few weeks ago. Happy eating out...

Tuesday Treat: Hotdog, Bolt n Bone

This bone is playing charades apparently. Have you figured out the clues Mr. Bone? Let's see. A cigarette. Hmmmm... Thats pretty COOL. Some food scraps, looks like a hotdog. DOG. Yes, you're doing well. Now lastly a screw or a BOLT I hear you say? Cool Dog Bolt? I think its "Theres a big mother fucking fuck off dog coming your way so start running lil bitchass bone."

Monday Meal: Pigeon Shit Box

Pigeon's are actually picky scabs. There is one scout per block that trolls their beat for food for the rest of the clan. A green shit on a box means GO. This is the 'safe' code for the scraps/bones. A white shit signals proceed with caution. A red shit means someone needs to shoot that AIDS riddled rat with wings.

Saturday Salmonella: Bones on the Bus

This is the most fucking beautiful sunrise I have EVER seen. The Thames never looked so good from the bus, especially when you get the stench of chicken meal dregs, and not the river. Whoever ate this is obviously new to the game. They used a fork, and there is only the one tiny bone. What part of poultry even is that? I've put the source of the meal down to 'Chicken Coop' or 'Jerk Station', both on the bus route. All aboard the N35, calling all stops to obesity...

Friday Feast: Just Chicken?

This drunken feaster obviously didn't want any potato carbs before bed. There is literally a whole chicken, cut in six and gnawed straight off the bone here. I don't know about you, but I'm a healthy fried chicken connoisseur. I never order straight chicken, how ridiculous would that be. A fruity drink and at least a side of chips and 'slaw are the minimum for a round, 3 outta 5-a-day kinda meal. This is why the obesity epidemic is rife, not enough processed veggie sides.

Thursday Thigh: Soggy Box

MMM...We did need the rains, even if it means the streets are full of wet boxes. This looks like a classic 3-piece meal, hold the drink. Most likely blown out of the greasy hands of the drooling eater, as it seems barely touched, and the saucey chips in the middle haven't all been devoured . You've always got room for saucey chips.

Wednesday Wing: Chip Mutiny

This is the most serious day in the history of chicken drummer's since the Colonel set up shop. The chips are holding a mutiny. Apparently they are sick of the chicken smell overpowering their boxes, and chips are in the majority in any box meal. Their qualms are they only like to be smothered in ketchup, gravy, and mayonnaise and be eaten out of fishy boxes. This could spell the end for BonesEast. I hope the overnight summit meeting at FCKF can resolve the tension. Check back tomorrow...

Tuesday Treat: Birthday Bones

It's not often chickens get to celebrate their 1st birthday before being beheaded and running around only to fall in a vat of bubbling oil. Same goes for bones; it's tough once they're out of the bain-marie. But these punks have managed to buck the trend hold a wild street birthday party, complete with drugs and cake. They are just choosing the dessert as we speak. There must a vegan bone amongst them going by the chickpeas, and the nappy seems to be their jumping castle. God bless them.

Monday Meal: Holiday Bone

I was wondering why the bone scene was a lil hit and miss the last week: they are all on package holidays. Check this scroggin' bone out. Its a tropical paradise. So sunny, lush greenery and there even seems to be a techy roof-seweresque waterslide/blowhole for those 30+ days. Best thing is its free, they just wait for a pigeon to fly them no-frills on GreasyJet. Take me there...

Sunday Snackbox: Broken Bones

Someone needs to call Bone Services on the idiots who committed these crimes. Not only is the poor wing busted into a thousand pieces, but its also lying in a dried up pool of urine. I mean this abuse needs to stop, and NOW. We could have glued the lil bugger up and let him go on his way, but with crackie piss infecting the marrow there is never a happy ending.