Fly me two baboons,
and let us play on monkey bars.
Let me see what swinging’s like,
in loosely fitting bras.
In other words, orangutans.
In other words, monkey mischief.
Fill my arse with pong,
and shut the windows and the door.
Playing Donkey Kong,
and farting on the bedroom floor.
In other words, where’s the loo?
In other words, I smell poo.
Ahhhh it’s just like being back on stage with Sinatra at The Sands in Vegas.
Or at the very least being back on stage with Sinita on the sand at Bognor Regis.
I’m not budging on that damn you!
I’m no clairvoyant but I’d like to think old blue eyes would be happy with the changes I made there. It somehow manages to maintain all the feel-good chic of the orginal while adding in a little zaniness to appeal to smelly beatniks and the mentally ill.
In other monkey news, check out this little roister doister:
Awwwwwww isn’t he sweet? Couldn’t you just eat him?
Coochie coochie coo! (what the hell does that even mean anyway?) (knowing my luck it’s probably monkey for “Kill me, kill me, and feast on my flesh!”)
Oh that’s it man. I can’t stand it.
I’m driving down to the animal sanctuary tomorrow to pick me one up – it can be the monkey son I never had ….
NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!
Second thoughts, probly just go with a nice tortoise or a budgie then.
That look may have worked for Gene Simmons but it just looks wrong on you Mr. Monkey. You saucy bugger.
Oh ‘ave a word squire! Sort your barnet out mate:
You look RIDICULOUS! And understand I’m telling you that as a friend. Work with me here? Your toe nails could use some work too so maybe stop by the nail parlour after the barbers alright? And not wanting to labour the point, but I hear they sell very competitively priced nose hair trimmers at Boots these days. That’s all I’m gonna say. God speed my hirsute friend.
What the jumping Jehoshaphat is this anyway???:
Someone throw me a bone?
I’m getting hints of late 70s Elvis with the hairdo, an owl’s face, a jaguar’s nose, hippo ears; and unless I’m very much mistaken … no… could it be? Surely not!? YES, that’s my brother-in-law’s dad’s moustache god dammit. How dare you sir? Give it back. Hell, there’s even a bit of panda going on in there somewhere.
That does it … by the power invested in me by divine primate, Her Majesty Queen Victoria Beckham, I hereby christen you Police Photofit Monkey.
JESUS HAROLD CHRIST – and I thought OCD was bad. How did millions of years of evolution conclude that THIS was the solution to anything?:
Well, there’s no need to be rude sir. Cheeky monkey! Pffft!
Meanwhile, something for the ladies:
Ahhh now this gets me right in the gut – check this little guy out:
He makes Ewoks look like pipe hitting gang bangers. I defy Disney to even try to come up with something as cute as that. Look at him smiling – he’s just happy to be a part of this number.
WAIT A GOD … DAMN … monkey minute – I’ve been fooled once already today. I bet this one has extendable gnashing snake jaws or poison tentacles coming out of his ass.
STROLL ON you duplicitous little PHONY! Not on my watch.
That’s right keep walking you cute little bastard. I’m not crying. I’ve been peeling onions.
Ha – flippin told that guy where to get off didn’t I?
And finally, here’s a lesson for us all:
It seems the fickle finger of fate has left Limahl, lead singer of once-mighty 80s group Kajagoogoo, munching on a fly for his supper:
“Too shy shy, hush hush, bite a fly”.