Greetings monkey lovers! (Though not to any of the freaks that appeared in Channel's My Monkey Baby last night. If you're reading this - you are insane. KEEP AWAY from us with your disgusting frilly dresses and Silly Willy monkey names. Yes, that's the name of the poor bastard with the bridesmaid dress on.)
Flippin' heck! Me, Sharlene and Schmichael sat through the hour long documentary with our mouths hanging open.
We agreed it was the most bizarre documentary we'd ever seen and I tell you for nothing, me, Sharlene and my comrades have seen hundreds. Dr Ricardo was a big fan of your Channel 5 and real life drama stuff. So we know all about proper freaks and wierdos, and Peter and Katie (I love them. I'm very sad they've split but she is quite nasty to him.)
If you didn't see it, fictional reader, then let me summarise. Two barking mad couples, one singleton. None of them wanted children. All had various traumas as to why not, including not talking to your six children, a hysterectomy and a mean father. They all adopted baby monkeys, and in varying degrees fed them ice cream and cakes, kept them in nappies, transported them in prams, plastered them in make up and dressed them in ridiculous outfits. One called Laurie even claimed that her little princess, Jessie, didn't like bananas. All monkeys like flippn' bananas. Unbelievable.
Making monkeys dress up like you humans isn't right. We know that because Dr Ricardo caught his assistant Orlando red-handed. He'd unexpectantly returned early from one of his cycling holidays because his room had been double-booked with some pensioners from Recife. Anyway, Orlando had got me to squeeze into a rubber suit and mask, telling it was a ground breaking experiment see how well our monkey bodies could tolerate heat. 'We lived in the flippn' Amazon, Mr Orlando!;' I told him. 'How much hotter can you get than that! Flippn' hell?' although it came out more like: 'Mmmmm eeeek...mmmmm' cause the mask was so flippn' tight. To make it worse he handed me a long whip and told me to pretend to be Indiana Jones. 'Pretend I'm an evil Nazi and I've stolen your monkey treasure!' I couldn't see a flippn' thing and with all my flailing around, I knocked over the bunsen burners and the huge vials of chemicals bubbling away, destroying most of the lab and setting the alarm off. We never saw Orlando again and no mention has ever been made of the monkey heat experiments.
Anyway, in between rehearsals of Oliver!, Sharlene and Schmichael have been busy printing posters of all who took part, just in case they get any funny ideas about Quake Island and try and steal any of our monkey babies. WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE.
Scmichael reminded us that some 15,000 nutters in the US adopt baby monkeys so he's instigated a new law from now on: every visitor is searched for nappies with holes cut in them for tails and/or nappies with a pair of scissors and hideous frilly dresses. That way, he reckons, we'll be able to spot a potential monkeynapper and escort them off the island immediatedly.
Sharlene reckons that's too good for them, that we should lock them up with the footballers, who are getting a bit upset with their confinement. I opened up their cages after giving them a big dose of Dr Ricardo's Sleepy Night Night Juice and threw in three footballs for them to play with. Sharlene has now confiscated the balls after being on the receiving end of some rather sexist comments. She'd been doing a dress rehearsal for Oliver! at the time and was all done up like Nancy when they started on her. I don't blame her. I also put a Tory MP in with them as punishment. He can bore them now with his protests of 'the people being jealous of my duck island/house/mansion/fast car/foreign holidays/'. We've got a couple of his mates here, whingeing on about 'the rules let us do it'. I don't know what they're going on about. But I wish they'd just shut up. I am fed up with it, I tell you. They're going to find themselves in with the footballers if they don't shut it.
Laters monkey friends!
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