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.
