Wednesday, 16 September 2009


Troubled days and sleepless nights since my little diatribe last time. I keep seeing Meerkats everywhere, I am the haunted monkey of Pettigrew's Circus and, NO, that is not a new act on the bill
The other night, during the Act, I could almost have sworn that I saw one of the aforementioned in the audience wearing a smoking jacket. It may have been because my eyes were still watering after getting "the family jewels" in a twist after a particularly tight turn but I was equally sure I saw him draw his fingers across his throat in a cutting motion.
Then, the very next day, my dear friend and benefactor, Stromboli the Circus Strong Man,got a very strange phone call. Someone with a heavy Russian accent said to forget about finding cheap car insurance as that task would be a cake walk compared to finding my lifeless body after he and all the other "Ivans" had had their way with it. Mummy!!!!!!
Stromboli tried his best to calm me down. He is of the opinion that it was one of Beppo's (head clown and would be circus shop steward) practical jokes. Apparently he is one of this blogs followers - however uninvited. If he was behind it I'm not sure whether I am more surprised at the depth of his malice or the fact that he can read.
Now look, once and for all lets set the record straight. Meerkats are not that bad.
O.K. they are a bit annoying - sorry Ivan - but you have to admit they are great entertainers. Millions of T.V. viewers can't be wrong. Can they?
If you are looking for an annoying creature, look no further than the Lemur. They really are annoying. In fact, they are downright obnoxious. All that high kicking and leaping around for no apparent reason. What a total waste of energy.
They are like a bunch of demented Tiller Girls or Pan's People after too many cans of Red Bull. Imagine that lot invading your favourite Palais de Danse on a Saturday night. Trouble? There would be fur, teeth and toe nails everywhere.
The local Romeos (or Neds as they are often known) would not like it one little bit. The high kicking "lemur leaps" would, inevitably be construed as a pre emptive kung fu move and many cries of "Come on,if you think you're hard enough you furry b**t**d" would ensue.
Secondly, the same young men would be insanely protective of their young women (or hussies as they are sometimes known)Over the melee you can just hear the strangled cries.....the language of chaos and violence.
"Oi, "banjo eyes", are you molting on my bird?"
"Oi, you swingin' on me girlfriend?" Note the use of the word "on" and not "with". It's no mistake.
No, gentle reader, never invite lemurs to your wedding. As far as dancing goes, they just do not know when enough is enough. Heaven help the world if they ever get their hands on alcohol.
Oh, greeeeaaaat!!!!!!! I've just realised what I've done. Now I not only have a pack of murderous Meerkats on my heels, I've got the leaping lemurs too - and with those legs to propel them they'll probably catch me in half the time.
Look! Look! Let me try one more time to extricate myself from this diplomatic nightmare. To that end I shall tell a story against my own species - although admittedly, they were distant cousins.
Many years ago there was a beautiful little island in the Pacific Ocean. Developers discovered it and turned it into an upmarket and eco friendly resort. Everyone was happy. The natives, who had been having a particularly tough time of it got good jobs in the catering industry and hotel management while at the same time knowing that there beloved island would not become debauched or turn into a Blackpool with sun. The developers were happy as they could make a ton of money while still retaining the warm glow of eco harmony.
The hotels were all built, the airport runway extended, there were boats in the harbour and Prince Andrew and his latest paramour had booked for a whole month.
Then, a tribe of monkeys who lived in the hinterland in a part of the island that the developers had turned into a jungle adventure trail (eco friendly of course) made their presence known.
The natives had more sense than to bother with the interior (hot, sticky, murder on the sandals etc) and so the primate residents of this place had no experience in dealing with human beings. They took to dropping from the trees, landing on the shoulders of the unfortunate eco tourists and trying to screw their heads off, thinking they had found the best coconut on the island.
Some longhair professor came up with theory that the monkeys, who were heavily dependent on coconuts, deduced that a coconut that was actually walking around would have a bit more zing (and thus be better for them)than one that was just lying around on the ground.
Be that as it may, the resort never recovered. Prince Andrew never went back after his young lady was stretchered off with whiplash. Countless lawsuits followed and, so the story goes, the whole place is just festering away, like that town in the Brasilian jungle.
Oh no, I give up. That crowd of pestilential primates were related to the Bonobos who live on the other side of the river from the my folks. I can't even go home!
Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Has anyone out there got a small room I could use for a while?

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