last night i was out at the beanpole bar and grill having coke and lambrettas with tony and jonathan hart. they are a lovely couple, they met when tony did the backdrops on “hart to hart” and have been together since despite stefanie powers. they best part of their relationship is that they have the same surname so they don’t need to get married so they can give a big finger to tony blairs!

we were enjoying our conversation about cravats so much that i didn’t notice that barry norman had entered the place and was scanning the room frantically. jonathan spotted him and pointed him out to me and then i knew i was in trouble. he’d obviously found out that i had been nobbing his daughter for the last three months and was on the warpath.

before i could put on my george peppard endorsed ray-bans and make a quick exit he had approached behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.

“you got some ‘splaining to do monkie!”

he said in an awful rosie perez inspired voice. little did he know i had an ace up my sleeve.

“miracle grow.”

i replied and now his clutch on me loosened and i turned to see his face turn white. he said “okay you win this time monkey man.” and turned and walked out the place at a stomp. you see, i had been round at his one day giving his lovely daughter the hairy turnip and notice a large amount of plant food in the window of his garden shed. after i had finished her off and sent her to sleep, i wandered out to the shed.

it was locked with a combination lock which i cracked first time by putting in the date which barry had met his hero quentin tarantino for the first time. them both being lanky, barry thought he could follow in quentins footsteps. he had made a short movie about waste recycling rival critics reviews, but it had not received any critical attention but his own.

as i entered the shed there seemed to be even more plant food than i had expected, the place was filled with plastic bags. i opened one up and discovered the horror that would come to protect me.

instead of finding the labeled product each bag contained dozens of magazines. at first i thought fair enough, we all need a place to hide our dirty shuffle books but on closer inspection i noticed the content of the mags was out of the ordinary.

so here are a selection of the less offensive magazine titles i found:

PIGEONS ON DOGS BACKS
PIGS WNAKING DOGS
DOGS WNAKING PIDGEONS
BEVERLY CALLARD WNAKING
LARKS IN HEDGES
LARKS IN HEDGES WNAKING OFF PIGS
GOATS IN COATS
MALLARDS ON THE RAG
VOLES UP HOLES
TORTOISE JAMBOREE
TOMMY BOYDS ANIMAL TAKEDOWN
PIGS IN MAN SHOES
MAN SHOES IN PIGS
SHAVEN RAVEN
JUST 3 DAYS (young nat fetish)
PUSHED OVER GIRAFFES

i could go on but i would be banned and sued.
so my advice to anyone in a relationship with an angry critics daughter is: LOOK IN TEH SHED!

yesterday i was out shopping with norman wisdom, checking out some bed linnen. i love norman, he’s an on-screen legend, but when shopping you don’t want some crazy fool beside you tripping himself up and knocking things over.

most times i drug him to keep him calm, you should see the disappointment on the public’s face when they see him sleeping his way through john lewis, but it makes my day a hella better.

so it was then that i noticed that norman had a monkey on his back. you’d think you’d notice something like that, i’d known wisdom for many years, he even let me fumble his wife once, we are that close. but i never did notice the yawning ginger marmoset clinging on to his shoulder.

i asked him how long he had it and where he had got it from, but he was off his tits and only managed to slur “diiikenssss annn joooonessss”.

i then looked around me at my fellow shoppers and noticed that nearly all of them had a monkey on their back, and i suddenly felt like i was missing something. so now the search begins to find a monkey for my back, here are my monkey specs:

-must be ginger (to match my mane, i don’t know what wisdom was thinking not matching top and tails).

-must be small enough not to be a strain to carry around.

-must have a comedy monkey laugh which i can trigger by pulling it’s tail.

-must be big enough to be able to handle itself, i don’t want to have to be worrying about it when we get into rucks.

-can be gay, as long as it doesn’t try anything with me.

-must have at least 4 hats and keep alternating between them

-matching canes and capes to go with the hats would be a bonus

-less than £50

-foreign

-happy chappy

-can fix a 1975 ford anglia
i don’t think that’s too much to ask for, i’ve seen people demanding crazy things from their monkeys. for example one girl expected her monkey to clean her tutti-fruiti, that’s just not on.

Current Mood: tension
Current Music: johnny dab

last night i had dinner with lenny henry and lenny bennet, we were having a riotous time reminiscing over the good old days when you could get on television even if you weren’t funny. thankfully it seems like those days are returning so i won’t have to feed the scroungers for much longer.

halfway through our desert of angel delight and m&m’s the doorbell went, i say doorbell, it was actually lenny’s comedy ring tone. how we laughed. after i had punched lenny my actual doorbell rang. i should have known the first wasn’t my doorbell as mine plays the theme to 15-to-1 and crosswits alternately.

as i went to the door i could see who it was immediately as i have a frosted effect glass window on it. the glass disfigured the individual but i knew who it was, it was pam dauber, from TV’s mork and mindy.

she had just moved into the street but a couple of days ago and i had invited her, and her husband Dr Fox, over any time they were not busy.

she had come alone and i can’t say i was disappointed as i had spotted dr fox scowling at children in the street the day before telling them to ‘skidaddle’ and get their ‘dirty foreskins’ off his driveway. short man syndrome if ever i saw it.

i ushered her in and much to my surprise she squatted in my hall to remove her shoes. apparently, when filming her TV series, robin williams insisted that no shoes were worn on set, because he had once been spooked by a ghost wearing nike airs.

it was fine by me, i secretly looked forward to catching a glance of her unfettered feet so did not think to stop her.

as soon as she had removed one of her ballamory branded clogs the funk was out the bag and the mood in the house changed. i introduced her to the lennys out of politeness and they unwillingly shook her hand. but i could see both of them thinking of excuses to leave, the smell was unbearable, like a coiffured paul ross.

in the end we got rid of her by lezzing up with each other, and throwing peanuts at her. but the funk had stuck so the lennys left leaving me in the thick of it. i set fire to the place the next day and moved to carnaby street where she couldn’t find me.

there’s a lesson for all of you there.

The post Christmas period is always a strange one. everybody back at work but nobody actually doing anything apart from complaining how cold it is and how bad their holiday was.

i entered the office seven minutes late as always, its always better to be late than early, that’s what the ambulance driver told me. time to re access the scene, what was over familiar two weeks ago is, for a few minutes at least, reminiscent but unnerving.

i check out all the grown hair and new clothes, and the girl who i keep telling myself i quite fancy, but really only when she’s not around and i’ve forgotten how dull as me she is. i make my way to my desk, smiling at everybody i pass, like being there is the best thing evar.

i look over my desk at all the old pens and notes that will never be used and my heart sinks, as i remember what i do and where i do it.

then in comes fat dennis, and every thing’s okay!

he waddles up to my desk as usual but this time with an even heftier waddle due to mince pies and a tight new shirt with slimming vertical stripes that make him look like a mountain map. he chuckles in a way only he can, like it’s the first time he’s seen my funny face, and we swap pleasantries in order to set up an in joke.

except the jokes don’t fly, it takes time to get back into the banter, and it’s too soon. i feel sorry for him as he tries too hard and the panic in his eyes sets in. then he breaks down. it turns out that just before christmas day he found out his wife has been having an affair, but this is not news to me.

i’ve been taking care of his business for three months now, i just hope he doesn’t know it’s me. judging by his confidence in me, it doesn’t seem so. i put on my sympathy face and let him unload, i’ll get him some biscuits in a minute, that will help.

Yours

Juliet Mills & Ken Boon