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Tummies, willies, silly billies Day - The Monkey Files

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August 25th, 2006


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08:16 am - Tummies, willies, silly billies Day
It’s ok! I’m alive, alive oh; I’ve just been celebrating National Gut Week in style. Bring on the diarrhoea! Bring on the food poisoning! Bring on the stomach cramps! Seize the licence to binge!

OK Mr Blair, I know we’ve had our disagreements in the past, but this little conspiracy is rather harsh. I’m not that obtuse- I was happy to make note of National Gut Week and spread the word to my fellow brethren about being kind to the gut. Feed it milk! Feed it soup! Etcetera… There was no need to hit me with the stomach situation from hell just to drive the campaign message home. Obviously, a little sprint training the length of the office to the bathroom is useful for honing my ‘run for the bus’ muscles and I am employed in the business of sewage so I might as well keep the wolves from my door and maximise my contribution to the system, so to speak. I have been feeling a little mardy, though, a little ruffled and very, very sore. Maybe it was punishment for eating jelly for breakfast on the Sabbath. “He shall smite ye oh Israel who eateth of the satanic gelatine, spawned from the hooves of the cloven footed beasts!”

This week’s prize conundrum is courtesy of my uncle, currently on holiday in South Africa. Who amongst you can solve the following cryptic text? “Hi Lily can you text your Captain Corellies (sic, in other words I can’t spell it either!) mandolin story. Ta.” The clues I can offer you are that he included my name- so it was destined for my phone, I have never read the book in question, never been on safari and do not play the mandolin or have a weekend job telling comedic mandolin-inspired stories.

Other than a licence to binge, Ging gave me an unconditional licence to be patronising. He phoned me at 3am possibly Wednesday morning in an uncharacteristic rage (though not uncharacteristic timing) demanding I spoke to him. I was very sleepy, half-delirious with Blairitis (see above) yet strangely unflappable so I dropped the phone on the floor and ignored his rants and subsequent texts. I gave him a quasi-stern lecture the following evening along the lines of “I have come to accept your drunken, abusive phone calls as an intrinsic component of your ever exuberant charm, however please limit this to before midnight on a weekday or 2am at weekends. Much as I love you and have a uniquely resilient ability to overcome exasperation, this is not amongst those abundant talents of yours that I most appreciate or wish to nurture. I am saddened that the entertainment you generously bestow is tainted by my inability to afford you the level of respect to which I believe every upright citizen is entitled. Please channel your self-evident energy into greater endeavours to restrain your wanton and persistent tendency to undermine the credibility of your counter-efforts to be mature and trustworthy.” Who says our friendship is destructive?

Wishing you a merry and sunkissed weekend one and all!
Current Mood: amusedentertained by the masses

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