Well let me tell you something. They are nothing special. I mean what do they do, anyway? Yes that's right, they stand around in gangs and they wait for something to happen. And they wait and they wait. What are they waiting for anyway - Godot?
Then, on the rare occasions that something actually does happen, they scatter in as many different directions as there are Meerkats. Call that an Act. They can't even get you cheap car insurance!
Now take my Act. I not only juggle balls (stop that), I race around on my shiny red bike, get chased by clowns, take prat fall after pratfall and generally bring laughter and magic into the audiences life - EVERY NIGHT! That, Ladies and Gentlemen, is an ACT.
I don't even get my distinguished features replicated on the Circus' posters and yet those lousy show offs get a regular feature on that stupid "Walk on the Wild Side" programme. Struth! It's enough to give wildlife a bad name.
And as for that flatulent Gorilla....please. I know I am a chimp but he brings shame on the lot of us. Anyway, much of my problem in that direction has gone since Stromboli started making me drink buckets of Peppermint Tea. Not so much Gone with the Wind as gone with the Peppermint, you might say.
Then there's that pointy eared little idiot shouting after Alan. Someone wants to tell him that "Alan" has probably been trampled by a bunch of stampeding Meerkats.
Oh switch the T.V. off Come to the Circus and see a real Act. Meerkats! Meerkats! Meer Rodents I say.
Has somebody out there got a drink? I'm spitting feathers here!
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