Harsh measures for harsh times

Which Tory MP would you eat for tea? Would they leave a nasty taste in your mouth like the bankers and footballers? Sharleen thinks that Mr Osbourne may be slightly tastier than the charming Mr Gove as long as he was washed down with Dr Ricardo's Happy Smiley Monkey juice. I'm not so sure though it could be a new policy for Mr Cameron and Mr Clegg. Eat the poor.







Monkey lovers.

It's been too long. Nearly a year.

You probably thought that we were all quiet because we were enjoying all our riches. What with all the cash we got from the bankers and footballers and sales of all the guns on the boat, and our own musical theatre genius and our new Pleasure Beach, we should be happy, right?

Big wrong.

Your crappy Bank of England interest rate means we're hardly making any money. Times got really, really bad when we caught Sharleen trying to sell the pleasure beach to our rival tourist town, Margate. At the trial, she said they'd offered a pile of cash as they wanted an old fashioned funfair after their last one went up in flames. But it's not our flippn' fault that they didn't look after what they had in the first place.

We only had enough money to feed the indigenous population of our beautiful island, us monkeys. The footballers and bankers ate and drank too much, so there was only solution to keep us from dipping into our capital.

Reader, we ate them.

A punch up between cast members has delayed our production of Oliver! The Musical, after Nelson said Ramon's portrayal of the Artful Dodger was rubbish and that he'd be better off playing Bill Sikes's dog, Bullseye. (Ramon is pictured below. Above him is a photo of the real Artful Dodger).
























Monkey lovers!

It's been too long, my friends. But we have been big time busy with all the building works. Monkey Love Town is looking good!

We had a few problems with drainage and our water supply but managed to kidnap a couple of plumbers from Folkestone to sort it out. We tried to get them to come to our beautiful island by making an appointment but they never flippn' well turned up, so we had no flippn' choice, my friends.

Anyway, after we injected them with some of Dr Ricardo's Sleepy Sleepy Tight Juice, they didn't put up too much of a fight. They were a bit hysterical when they first woke up, shouting about Planet of the Apes. Sharlene put them straight. She told them that PoA (as we refer to it - Dr Ricardo used to have it on a loop when he went on his cycling holidays), was a fantastic series, although the film wasn't that great, but neither could compare to our predicament.

They did try to escape a couple of times but after we locked them up with the footballers for a night, they were desperate to start work in the morning. In fact, now they they love our beautiful island so much that they are staying forever! Hooray! It will certainly save on any future kidnappings which do involve quite a lot of planning, clean needles, rope etc.

Some of fat City boys tried to say that we should be careful about the type of people we have on our island when we told them the good news. Nelson asked exactly what was so skillful about sitting on your fat stinky arse, tracking numbers and gambling with other people's money? All three of them went quiet and walked off looking a bit grumpy. But to be honest, who cares? We have their supposedly-hard-earned money and they have the freedom to roam the island. They can leave any time they like.

They don't cause us too many problems and were helping out with costume making for Mr Charles Dickens's Oliver! The Musical. until Nelson dissed Ramon's performance as the Artful Dodger. He said he'd be better off playing Bullseye, Bill Sikes's dog, which is a little unkind although he does in certain lights (mostly when he walks on all fours during the hours of daylight) resemble a dog. So, it was a fair point really although it caused a massive flippn' fight between all the cast members. Smichael has given them 24 hours to cool off. Hopefully, rehearsals will resume soon.

It's the footballers that really get on my nerves. They are so flippn' stupid and dull that it's difficult to see the point of them. We tried to get them interested in being in Oliver! pointing out that a few footballers have gone down the acting route, but they were rubbish as Mr Bumble and Widow Corney. We started a Quake Island FC but need some more top quality football players. Nelson reckons that we should take a leaf out of Abramovich's book and just buy a load of good players but I reckon we're just making more work for us. I've secretly been injecting them at night with Dr Ricardo's special medicine for the last week to see what happens. If I don't see an improvement in their behaviour, I'm seriously thinking of casting them adrift in the channel. But as Nelson points out, they work as a kind of deterrent to bad behaviour. A night in the cage with the footballers is always effective. Who needs the flippn' death penalty, Mr Obama?

Laters!

Monkey lovers!

It's been so long. I can't even remember the point of this. I've been super busy, busy, busy after our island community has taken off big time. (Though not literaly, monkey lovers. We're still at the same location, though I suppose anything is possible in the wonderful and wierd world of the English Channel).

Not only have we been busy installing major infrastructure but we've also been on holiday to Morocco after striking up a big time friendship with some of the sailors who we captured off that massive ship.

Anyways, they invited us for a holiday in their

Monkey lovers! Apologies for the long delay but I've found out who the stalker was...none other than the lovely Tracy Emin.

Lumley to rule Folkestone with loyal Gurkhas

A scene from the future? The Gurkhas, led by their queen Joanna Lumley, invade Folkestone as the townsfolk rebel against its incompetent councils with the help of Quake Island monkeys. (Monkeys and Ms Lumley out of shot).



Monkey lovers!

It's been a long time and sorry for long delay but we've been super busy building our first monkey love town called Monkey Love Town.

It's literally been all hands on deck. Oops... I was told not to mention anything about ships or nautical stuff for a while but as no one actually reads this (except for my flippn' stalker) let's just say the Russian cargo ship that went missing in the Channel had a lot more than planks of wood on board. I don't like to boast but WE ARE OFFICIALLY SHIT HOT RICH MONKEY PIRATES ...We are now unofficially the richest island in the world! Stick that in your Sunday Times rich list pipe, Mr Murdoch, and smoke it. Let's hope our collective spirit messes up your stupid list big time.

And we got three weeks free labour from the crew. They were very nice, well-behaved boys who were all builders before the economic downturn forced them to become crew to a ship carrying 'unusual' cargo. So yippee for us, they knew how to use a power drill and drive cranes and mix cement and all that stuff that you have to do to build a town without any infrastructure, which was pretty flippn' handy. And best of all they loved our island, especially our entertainment and unique interpretation of Oliver! The Musical. Anyway, suffice to say we were sad to see them go (especially the footballers who had started up their own football team, Quake Island FC. They are now back in the cage but that's another story.) If you want to read more about the cargo ship go to: www.where-the-hell-has-my-huge-cargo-ship-gone-shit-if-anyone-finds-what's-on-board-we're-in-BIG-trouble/shippingnews.com

Anyway, our town is looking 110 per cent good. But perhaps not as handsome as the bloke who played Heathcliff in that bad adaptation of Wuthering Heights last weekend. What was that all about? Me and Shmichael were well confused and I've read the book! That takes some doing. We allowed Jonathan to watch it as a special treat (Dr Ricardo banned him from the TV room as he used to get upset if people on the TV started arguing and after destroying five televisions, he had enough.) By the second half he'd completely lost the plot, saying how amazing it was that the characters had all managed to stay young looking and we had to 'get the special age-defying potion that they were guzzling'. It wasn't strictly true: Heathcliff in later life resembled that chef Marco Polo White in both looks and temperament. No wonder he could only get a dead woman interested in him. And what was all that hair stuck to Cathy's brother's face while he spent the whole second half lolling around on a table. I tell you I've been to Haworth and they certainly wouldn't allow that kind of behaviour. Flippn' waste of money! They would have been better of investing it in our fabulous town.

It's all designed on a typical Roman town with some of the best elements taken from Folkestone - our nearest neighbours. We left out the big white hotel that blocks out all the light and views by the Harbour as Schmichael says he doesn't want to attract 'those kind of tourists' on Quake Island. I never realised he was such a snob, to be honest, but he reckons they'd bring in all 'the bad tribute bands from the 60s and 70s' although none of us know exactly what he's talking about.

We went for another fact finding mission last weekend for the day and the town's going to allow yet another supermarket. I've never seen so many flippn' supermarkets...and then they complain that the town centre is dying. Me and Smichael just nodded our heads when we read the recent application. Monkeys could do better? We certainly flippn' could! The councils that run those towns should hang their heads in shame. And as for its MP...even your beloved Mrs T thought there was something dodgy about him.

Anyway, I've got myself all upset thinking about that town...perhaps we could come and free the people and get the lovely Ms Lumley to rule with her gurhka soldiers by her side. At the very least the town may get some decent public toilets.

Laters!

Monkey Friend.

Howdy monkey lovers!

You may have noticed the lack of news from Quake Island over the last few weeks but my friends, it's not because we have nothing to report. Gar from it. I hardly know where to start. Firstly, I need to put all our monkey fans out of their misery. We have most defintely not been invaded by deportee Iranians. Big releif at our end, I can tell you. (How that would have flippn' put an end to our blissful weeks in the sunshine on the light side's glorious white sandy beaches). And no, we have definately not been visited by any monkey baby snatchers. We're still busy, busy, busy with rehearsals for Oliver! I've flippn well been roped in big time by Sharleene anbd Schmicheal to play the Artful Dodger after X (young monkey) fell off the Helter Skelter and is in a bit of a bad way. We're giving him plenty of loving and Dr Ricardo's sleepy nighttime juice and Scmicahel reckons he read a story in the Daily Mail recently about a monkey in a robot suit with his hands tied behind his back. Apparently, he or she can control his movements through the power of thought. Joanthan;s busy building a replica so we may have x back with us before to long. But we've told him that he'll have to curb his trips on the big dipper when he's all robo-suited up.

Instead we've had the pleasure of a most incredible guest who turned up here last week with his human friend.

Could Iranians be deported to Quake Island?

Our beautiful island could be sunk along with our dreams to be Kent's Number One Tourist Attraction thanks to Iran’s flippin' supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.






Greetings monkey lovers

You will have probably noticed an absence of the usual fun-loving exclamation mark because my friends (or are you?), we are in the presence of an imposter. And there is no place for a casual, silly exclamation mark on Quake Island today. Indeed we may be in mortal danger.

Our blog is being followed by someone posing as none other than me, your trusted correspondent, Monkey Friend, calling themselves Monkey Friend. Well, if you really are a true monkey friend, Monkey Friend, then reveal yourself (though not like Dr Ricardo’s assistant, Orlando used to, please. Email will suffice.)

Theories as to who has stolen my identity are spreading like wildfire among the island community and for the sake of simplicity, Sharlene suggests I use bullet points to outline them. I’ve placed my comments about theories in italics
They include:

• It’s the secret service employed by France or England, or either both, trying to befriend me and get my trust before they invade. (Jonathan). I’m not so sure. We’ve not really heard much from either government since we ate their flags and I reckon they may be pretty busy on either sides of the island. Mr Brown’s got a load of trouble with banks, no cash and MPs diddling the public purse (though I’m convinced no-one has noticed three MPs out of the 600 plus missing) and now his open government has got to organise a secret inquiry into the invasion of Iraq. It’s all go, go, go Mr Brown. Anyway, he’s got all this shit going down while Mr Sarkosy has his 100 per cent good looking wife Carla to look after. I said to Jonathan that if some secret flippin’ service was so interested in us, they’d find a more effective way to infiltrate our monkey love island than through a couple of emails.

• Some weirdo looking for virtual monkey love who stumbled on our blog by mistake. (Nelson - he’s one of the older monkeys here and my new best friend after Jonathan chased me up the helter-skelter and threatened to throw me off until I agreed with his theory). I reckon this theory could be a goer. Dr Ricardo used to monitor our internet use because of all the flippin’ perverts in cyperspace. He said he didn’t want our special brains corrupted by the filth of human society. Very noble, Dr Ricardo, but what about the filthy needles you used to inject us with?

• A well wisher who means us no harm but is a bit bored at work or in the evening when there’s nothing on telly and thinks it’s entertaining emailing our community. (Sharlene) It’s a possibility but what kind of flippin’ freak spends their time writing dross to strangers?

• It’s someone who is jealous of my good looks and wants to get to me. (Schmichael) I’ll tell you this, ‘Monkey Lover’, after 20 years of Dr Ricardo’s daily brain injections, assuming my identity online will hardly ruffle my fur. You’re going to have to try flippn’ harder than sending two poxy emails.

• It’s the baby monkey snatchers. (Ramon). I’m not sure now that they’d be bothered to come all this way to snatch baby monkeys when they have breeders at home willing to sell them at three days old. But we’re not dissuading Ramon from this theory. The threat that some American monkey baby lover with a suitcase packed full of nappies and frilly dresses may arrive on the island one day is making him behave himself for now.

• Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei plans to dump all those who voted against Mahmoud Ahmadinejad on Quake Island. (Claudia). I flippin’ hope not. There’s 45 million voters and two thirds so obviously didn’t vote for Ahmadinejad which would leave us with 30 flippin’ million Iranians on our island. I tell you they will sink it. We’d have no space for our beautiful pleasure beach and harbour. Plus it’d ruin our chances of becoming Number One Tourist Attraction in Kent, UK. Claudia admits this is a bit far-fetched but as she rightly points out, who’d have ever thought a load of monkeys would end up rioting, capsizing and taking over a newly formed island? I said to Claudia: “No way! They’d just flippin’ shoot ‘em!” But as Claudia pointed out, killing 30 million people is quite a big undertaking even if you wheeled out all the dictators in the world and raised a few dead ones like Hitler and Pol Pot. It would actually be easier to just transport them to an island like ours. Shit.

• It’s the editor of Hello magazine, desperate to interview me about my favourite colour and shops, who will make no references to the numerous rape and assault allegations and the mysongist way I treat and talk about women. (Footballer 1). This bloke is a complete flippin’ narcissist and brainless scumbag. It’s a bad, bad thing to give so much cash to someone so young and stupid. Thankfully, we have done him one big favour by taking it away from him and making him and Footballer 2 clean the Pleasure Beach. They are a bit flippin’ slow but Sharlene insists on administering them with Dr Ricardo’s magic Sleepy Sleepy Tight Juice after another unpleasant incident in which Claudia was sexually assualted. (Somehow they managed to squeeze one of their footballs through the cage and got Claudia to fetch it and push it back. While she was doing so, Footballer 1 grabbed her arm and tried to get her to perform a sex act. Luckily, Jonathan heard the kerfuffle and came to her rescue and confiscated all their footballs and clothing.) Personally, I’d like film an alternative ending to the Italian Job where it falls over the edge of the cliff, with the two footballers inside. But the god-fearing Nelson says we cannot take another life and Schmichael says he’d miss our little games. I think we may have to think about casting them off in a lifeboat or something because they are getting on my flippin’ nerves big time.

So there you have it monkey lovers. Sleep well, because we won’t until we find out the true identity of Monkey Friend.