"ON ME 'EAD SON, ON ME 'EAD!"

OR DOWN WITH THE MOB AND THEIR CONFOUNDED FOOTBALL HYSTERIA OR "OH, THOSE WORLD CUP BLUES

Well, folks, its on its way, thundering down upon us like an express train on steroids and, if you feel anything like I do about the prospect, you'll feel as though you are tied to the track with no hope of escape like that lady in the silent pictures that Stromboli and I are so fond of.

It would all be bad and bad enough but we look out of the caravan window and what do we see? None other than the sight of Beppo practising his ball skills (stop it!!!!) in his spare time. Have you ever seen someone practising "keepie ups" with two foot long shoes. No? Thought not. Add to that an orange wig and a big red nose and he looks like........well a proper clown - and not in a family entertainment sort of way. I'll say this for him though, he is a proper Millwall supporter - no-one likes him and he don't care!

No use bogging off abroad on holiday either! It'll be he same there. Only the colours and the language'll be different. Has the whole world gone mad? Even the Bedouins will be clustered round the old Panasonic Wide Screen Grrr!

Football? I just don't get it "mes amis". What's so special about 22 grown men kicking a leather ball around a field anyway? Don't they have proper jobs?

We actually had a similar game back in the jungle but at least there was a reason for it.

The object of our game was to get rid of members of the tribe who, in one way or another, had become liabilities to the rest of us.

We'd chase the miscreant through the jungle kicking coconuts aimed at his head. The one who scored the most "goals" got first dibs on the most nubile young female in the tribe. I'll tell you what, as incentives go you can keep your Porsches and Maseratis and Lamborghinis.

Needless to say, yours truly was absolutely hopeless at the "game" and once had to be stretchered off after my coconut bounced off the trunk of a Ban Yan tree and hit me square between the eyes.

As for the aforementioned miscreants, after the umpteenth missile connected with their noggins they usually got the message and were seldom seen again.

Brutal little savages, I hear you say, but, face it, it's no worse than what you lot can do to your Team Managers. Besides, we had a great esprit de corps - and there wasn't so much as a dodgy footballer's haircut between us!!!!!

CIRCUS MONKEY ATTACKS NICK CLEGG

You folks don't half get yourselves into some scrapes when picking your leaders!

A certain baby faced individual called Nick Clegg performed well in a couple of T.V. debates and now, all of a sudden, he is the "Great White Hope".

Performed well? Let's not get carried away (although many of you seemed to have).Basically, he performed as well as Wally The Seal when he manages to keep that big coloured beach ball balanced on the end of his nose for a few minutes.

I can understand letting T.V. advise you on which soap powder to buy, but choosing a leader for you...........

I live in a circus and see madness up close and personal on a daily basis but choosing a leader that way is just......well madness!

I know that I am just a jelly bean munching, toffee apple chewing circus performer with questionable personal habits and none of it is any of my business anyway, but baby face wants to let 58,000 criminals out of jail to paint fences, tidy up gardens and help old ladies over the road. He wants to give up the good old pound to join the crumbling euro and he even favours a law that would give drunks the "right" to demand that the driver stops the bus to let them off wherever they please. Grrrrrr!!!!!!! To add insult to injury he is annoyed at you for being glad that Britain was on the winning side in World War11. What would he be doing now if you'd lost it?

Anyway, what can you expect from a party that managed to find a home for that mad bat Sarah Teather?

By the way, am I the only one that's noticed Cleggie's remarkable resemblance to Private Pike in Dad's Army?

Altogether now.............stuuuupid boy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TRUE CONFEZIONS

Talk about feeling dirty and unclean and generally tainted! Stromboli (the Circus Strong Man) and I have been sitting pursed lipped and in high dudgeon in our shared caravan all this past week.

Indeed, my lips are so pursed I could easily suck the filling out of an individual fruit pie through the whole in the top - and try drinking tea with pursed lips and not making a noise. Impossible!

Both Stromboli and I have been badly let down. Our usual high standards in matters moral have been betrayed. We are disgusted, distressed and utterly discombobulated.

The reason for this dramatic upset? Gather round my little playmates and lend an ear. Beppo, the clown, (both in the professional and personal sense) has been exposed.........being, well, exposed. It seems that in his dim, distant and dirty past, before he donned the fright wig, the big shoes and the big red nose, he turned a coin appearing in dirty films.

It was all quite some time ago, back in the days when such items were shown in dodgy clubs in Soho or sold under the counter in plain brown wrappers and he was quite the little star for a while. All his films had an exotic, or should that be erotic, Eastern theme with titles such as "The Nabob Of Neasden", "The Peckham Potentate" and last, but not least, "The Sultan Of Surbiton". Talk about typecasting.

In most of these insults to the art of cinema (or should that be sinema) he was dressed in a fez, baggy trousers and those funny pointed slippers that turn up at the toes. I believe in one film they even had silver bells on the end. Not much chance of him sneaking up on an unsuspecting member of the harem there!

Now it's Beppo's toes that are turning up - in embarrassment - and its all his own fault. Instead of turning his back on his old life completely ( like they do when they join the Foreign Legion) and, before YOU say it, no, there isn't much difference between that and Circus life (Camels and animal droppings feature heavily in both) he hung on to one reel of film, presumably as a memento of his time as a rising star.

He might even have got away with doing that if he hadn't fallen out with Zippo, another member of his troupe, and gotten him fired.

Zippo, a four foot three inch ball of tightly coiled venom and vengeance strode over to Beppo's caravan with the intention of standing on a table and headbutting his malefactor but, finding Beppo was out, Zippo had a forage through Beppo's belongings looking for something of intense sentimental value to steal and sell and found.........you guessed it.

Before you could say "social work report" Zippo had sold the story to the local newspapers and T.V. stations and posted a clip on YOU TUBE. Quelle Scandale. Quelle Horreure! You didn't know I was bi-lingual did you? I said bi - LINGUAL you at the back!

Anyway, we are all laughing stocks now. Our collective skills and talents are set at naught. In the eyes of the public we are merely second fiddles to a loathesome lothario with a spotty bum (the film may be old but its crystal clear).

I feel for Mariella, I really do. An angel like that should never be tainted by the wickedness of ths world. I wonder that girl ever sees fit to come down from her high wire at all!

NEWSFLASH! UPDATE!

Just had the busiest week since I first came to the Circus. Box office is "Boffo" as they say in Variety. Since that clip of the aforementioned S.B. was posted on You Tube the public has flocked to us.

I half think they expected to see Beppo in some triple x rated confection but how they think he could get up to anything wearing shoes two feet long defeats me - as it would Beppo.

Anyway, who cares. Beppo's misdemeanours were all a long time ago, mustn't be judgemental and all that and besides Stromboli and I have both embraced the joys of pragmatism.

The audience are still throwing things, but this time it's money - after each act.
We've been cleaning up. Stromboli, ever the scholar, bought himself a new Thesaurus and I got a catering size jar of Dill Pickles. Oops pardon!

THE UNKINDEST CUTS OF ALL

N. Osferatu, our esteemed, if strangely nocturnal circus accountant has got himself into a lather of almost hysterical activity of late. All the more alarming since he is usually a very inanimate fellow who has been known to sit motionless for hours at his office desk rather like one of those tropical reptiles who only show signs of movement when their overlong tongue flicks out to catch some unfortunate passing insect whose only crime was to be in the vicinity. Osferatu 's tongue, by contrast, usually flicks out to give some unfortunate an ear bashing for spending money - even when it happens to be their own.

All that is by the by, though. No, the real reason for the hysteria is that someone gave him a year's subscription to the Financial Times (you know the big pink paper that you often see worried looking financial types reading across from you in the train or in your local coffee shops).

Osferatu, glad not to have to rely on the financial page in the Daily Star any more, has been drinking in every word of it. But one word has made a bigger impression on this cold fish than all the others. The word in question is "cuts".

He has got it into his head that massive cuts are needed in the circus expenses. He feels it is his duty to make swinging cuts to prove his financial virility. He feels like a veritable little "Master of the Universe".

To him the word has become a talisman, a slogan, a leitmotif.......a sort of verbal accountants Viagra. Mind you, that last one conjures up images too horrible to contemplate.

Anyway he is bandying the word about, wielding it like a sword and generally waving it in people's faces. He loves the power it gives him. The only time you see anything like a glint in those cold dead eyes is when some poor lackey is standing before him, knees knocking at Osferatu's not so veiled inference that the aforesaid lackey should brush up his C.V.

He doesn't even bother with Labour's pretence that his cuts won't hurt you because they are kind cuts. No, he is taking pride in the fact that his cuts will involve much bloodshed.

In fact, on the subject of blood...when the lion tamer made the mistake of taking back Charlie the lion's dinner pale before the King of the Jungle felt he'd finished there was much blood. I wouldn't go quite as far as to say there was carnage but.......... As the medics fought like, well lions, to make sure Solly kept his right arm, Osferatu, I have no idea what his first name is, hung around the scene leering and whetting his lips over and over again. There is something not quite normal about the man and one day I'll find out what it is.

Anyway, like many other dreary, bloodless little men, he takes a pleasure in weilding power over the helpless. He started off in a small way by cutting the length of the sticks on the toffee apples and replacing the useless Latvian jugglers china plates with plastic ones. Takes all the fun out of Laszlo's incompetence if you ask me.

Now he has had the nerve to ask the divine Mariella to wear something a "bit more plain and sensible", if you please. I'm speechless just thinking about it. The man's a barbarian.

What's next, hiring three legged circus horses for goodness sake? I'll tell you something, I'm hiding my spangly shorts until that subscription for the Financial Times runs out.

NATURE WATCHED

Did you see Nature Watch the other night? It was all about my fellow chimpanzees and how dashed clever we all are and how - breathless hush - we have even learned to use tools. Frankly, I thought it was all a bit patronising.

They showed you one of my "brothers" poking away at an old log so that he could feed off the creepy crawlies inside. Big deal! Give me a decent Black and Decker and leave me alone for a couple of hours and I could build Stromboli a DECENT bookcase. I'm sick of looking at the rickety thing he's got at the moment. It's hardly a fitting home for Dickens, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Zola, Mickey Spillane and all the other literary greats.

Later in the show the scientist chappies gave these monkeys at Edinburgh Zoo a film camera in a shockproof case to see what they did with it whilst, at the same time, making much of the fact that our D.N.A. is 98% the same as yours.

With that sort of percentage and a decent budget,they could probably have got a better end result than the people who make Emmerdale! All of this prompted me to wonder what percentage of MONKEY D.N.A the people who make "Live From Studio 5" and the "Wright Stuff" posess.

98% of human D.N.A. eh? I'll bet that you are all shifting nervously in your seats at the moment because if we had 98% of your rights you'd be in serious schtook. We'd be competing with you and yours for jobs and housing, wouldn't we? We'd be cheaper to employ than your average Lithuanian.

You'd see us everywhere. Delivering your post, serving up big Mac's in the local McDonalds or taking your fare on the good old No.37.

Just imagine us moving in as your next door neighbours. Just as you and your family and friends were enjoying your BBQ on the one hot day in Summer we would be up the tree in our own garden cackling, gesticulating and waving our backsides in your direction. Well, what do you expect when Carlsberg Special is so cheap?

Worst of all, imagine the look of horror on her loving Papa's face when some little Britnee or Chelsee brought her latest agile, if hirsute, beau home to meet the folks saying, "yeah, he ain't much to look at but he's "murder on the dance floor" an' he can spin round on his head faster than any of 'em others".

Relax, folks, relax. As you were. It'll never happen. A number of things stand in our way at the moment but for the sake of brevity I shall mention just three. We're short,we're hairy and we're bandy legged.

McDonald's? We couldn't reach the counter. We would have to sit on it.Health and Safety would never stand for it. Well, you wouldn't want your tray sharing space with a monkey's behind, now would you.

A postman's round? Leave it out! With these legs? It takes me all my time to cross the circus ring.

Mind you, from what I have seen of bus conductor's, we might be in with a shout there.

I can't help feeling that our day will come though. You have seen Planet of the Apes haven't you? HAR! HAR! HAR!

p.s. If anyone out there has a Black and Decker I'd still like to have a bash at that bookshelf!

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS

It has been brought to my attention that certain shortcomings in my behaviour need to be addressed and so, with Stromboli looking over my shoulder, (he means well) I commit my New Year's Resolutions to paper:

1. I shall not feel obliged to eat all the unsold toffee apples at the end of each day.

2. I shall not bite the hand that feeds (literally).


3. I shall not water the plants in other people's homes (metaphorically).


4. I shall not drop my spangly shorts and "moon" at members of the audience - even if they have been throwing things.


5. I shall not pick the spangles off my spangly shorts just because I am bored and have nothing else to do.

6. I will sit still while the nice make up lady combs my parting and puts on the Brylcreem.


7. I will not eat the Brylcreem.


8. I will finish things once I have started............


Wait a minute Stromboli has just gone out to see the Boss about something. Just time for me to nip out and fill up on toffee apples. It was a slack night to-night. There's probably tons left. Anyway, what sort of resolution is it if you can't break it? Eh? Eh?



Happy New Year to all my fans! A big sloppy kiss to you all!
P.S. did you know that because of my extra wide and elastic
lips I can kiss at least three people at a time - not that I
ever get the chance.

Cheery,

Marcel

CIRCUS MONKEY REVIEWS THE B.B.C.'S "BIG TOP"

I have been out of action with a bad case of groin strain these past few days (that bl**dy tricycle again) and have consequently been watching far too much T.V. for my own good.

I must say I did like "CASH IN THE ATTIC". You know, that's the cosy one where kind hearted folk sell off all their bits and pieces to buy a state of the art wheelchair for an aged relative. Of course you also get the selfish sods who blow the kids' inheritance on an overpriced round the world cruise but, then again, what did the kids ever do for them!

I've got to say, though, that I've seen enough naked middle aged ladies to last several monkey lifetimes (Gok Wan's "HOW TO LOOK GOOD NEKKID"). I have news for you, my supercilious oriental friend, I have always looked good NEKKID and I am well into my middle monkey years.

One morning while rubbing my tender groin (an image you could probably have quite happily got by without. Sorry!) I thought that the Simian race had actually taken over the airwaves but it was just Matthew Wright, a big eared, loud mouthed twerp with a rubber mug, just like those hooligan bonobos I was neighbours with back home, hosting one of those interminable daytime Talk Shows.

You know the kind. They always have a panel of z list celebs of no obvious great intelligence who, by virtue of the fact that a television camera is trained on them suddenly become expert on all the rich panoply of human affairs. Proper bl**din little Oracles of Delphi - and I don't think!

If you want a worse example of talk T.V. (oh you do? do you. You little masochists you!) may I direct you to LIVE FROM STUDIO 5, which goes out in the evening, or, as I call it, AN OIK AND TWO SLAPPERS. A little hard? A tad too cutting? Well, watch it and tell me I'm wrong!

I'll save the best till last - O.K. I'M BEING FACETIOUS. The B.B.C. are trying their hand at family entertainment again. Just out of interest, why do their Press Releases always make Family Entertainment sound like an Orwellian concept - straight from the Ministry of Laughter?

Speaking as a circus performer myself I have to say that it is not very realistic.
It's too colourful. Our establishment is a monument to the faded and the grubby. What's not faded is usually stained with some unidentifiable substance, or another, of which soup is the least problematic.

It's too glamorous. Amanda Holden's legs? Pleeeze. Apart from the divine Mariella, who is so far above us that she is not really part of this shambles, the owner of the best legs around here is Montezuma, the Circus Horse.

There was one note of reality, though, that clown who put the ferrets down his trousers. I could see Beppo, our chief mirth maker (O.K., I am being facetious again) doing that. The only difference being that he would not be doing it for the benefit of his act but for idle curiousity.

Actually, when you think of it, THAT'S funny!