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Monkey suspicious of man acting softly softly.





A local monkey is terrified he will be kidnapped after his neighbour has begun acting softly softly.


Mr. Monkey spent his early life in the world renowned Chester Zoo but left that behind for the middle-class dream in an upcoming area, however that dream has now become a nightmare after growing concerns over his neighbour’s intentions.


We caught up with Mr. Monkey earlier and he said, ‘The fella next door has clearly been doing his research and found out the best way to catch a monkey is the softly softly approach. He definitely wants to kidnap me. I’d bet my adorable little fez on it.


‘We’ve always got on fine. There was one silly incident about car parking but that was sorted; he told me I couldn’t park outside my house, and I threw my crap at him. That was the end of that. Then he started wearing hush puppies and whispering a lot.’


We asked Mr. Monkey why he thinks his neighbour would want to kidnap him.


‘He’s heard that stupid theory, hasn’t he? You know the one. If you give a monkey a typewriter, he’ll eventually write the entire works of Shakespeare or something. I know it sounds crazy, but I took a parcel in for him yesterday and I accidently ripped it open and inside was a massive cage and a typewriter. What else could he be planning?’


We questioned his neighbour who was flabbergasted at the accusation. ‘The thought has never entered my head,’ said Dr Steven Power, a renowned primatologist and playwright often referred to as the 'new Shakespeare'.


Tommy12000






Shakespeare writes to explain the delay in Boris Johnson's book about him




Verily, 'tis a melancholy tale I bear, of a scribe delayed in his task so fair.


This wordsmith, once nimble of hand and of wit, now finds himself stuck in a pit.

A pit of procrastination, of doubt, and of fear, that hath rendered his quill ever still and near.


His subject, a matter of great import, with tales to be told that should be in sport.

Yet, he doth suffer a delay most absurd, with the dawn of each day bringing not a single word.


His mind is a jumble of thoughts, all astray, and his heart a maelstrom of worry and dismay.

He hath lost his rhythm, his muses gone mute, and with each day that passes, his book doth refute.


He doth curse the fates, that have so cruel a twist, that hath left him stranded, with nary a script.

And so, with a sigh and a shake of the head, he doth confess that his book is not yet read.


But perchance, he shall find his way clear, and with a burst of inspiration, his tale shall appear.

For such is the way of the bard, and the scribe, that their works, in the end, shall forever abide


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