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Do you have a problem with Christmas?

Have you just had to spend the last week doing the smile and nod, smile and nod routine, thanking your granny for that lovely maroon and orange hand knitter jumper? Were you forced to watch the Eastenders omnibus? Did you really sit through Titanic? Did you take revenge by poisoning the ears of rosy-cheeked infants with tales of the non-existance of Santa Claus? Do christmas crackers set off your shellshock? Are you sick to death of mince pies? Do you have performance anxiety when faced with another round of Trivial Pursuit? Do you worry about the fate of all the turkeys of the world? Do you fear and loath the crowds of Oxford Street shoppers?

Friends, Noders, Londoners: there is a way out.

Gather around the monkey and drink. Again.


And now it's time for the second time, the post-christmas, pre-new-year monkey business. Feed the monkey your love. Feed your thirst with some drinking, some talking, some hanging out and some scurrilous gossip. Go on, you know you want to...

The where and the when and the huh what?

This saturday, December 30th (no, it's not New Year's Eve). How does 5pm suit people? gives you time to rampage around the sales, to potter around the new great court at the british museum or get some earlyu headstart drinking in...

I suggest that Yo!Below in soho would suit our purposes well. It has drinks (including a scary delicious vodka and lipovit drink that's flourescent green). It has huge bed couches to sprawl drape drunken bodies on. it has FREE MASSAGE. It's on Poland Street, just next to (and below) Yo!Sushi, at the end of D'Arbley Street, about 3 blocks down from Oxford Street. Need a map?

Who: YOU! but...which you? can you come along? will you come out to play?

Count Me In, All Praise The Monkey

Yes godammit, I have a problem with all this Christmas horror. Tatty little Santas on every street corner and saccharine sweet carols on the radio. It’s time we made a stand for what’s important in the world; beer and laughter and fun without festive seasons. I demand the right to meet up with people I have never met and toast them heartily for the New Year

a monkey is for life, not just for christmas - Bah Humbug Edition

Place: The Bricklayers Arms
Date: Saturday 16th December
Time: 4pm onwards...

If you find the pub... it looks a bit small when you walk in, walk to the right of the tiny bar and you will find a secret staircase on your left leading up. Follow this upstairs for the room with sofas, armchairs and an open fire. For any of you sods who can't be bothered to find an A-Z, heres a bad map, X marks the spot.

              |R|                 |^
              |a|                 |Tottenham
              |t \_________       |Court
              |h  Greese_St|X     |Road
      Post    |b /       | |      |^
     Office   |o|  CNN   | |      |
              |n|        |  \_____|              
              |e|         \_______  
              | |                 |
              |P| Midland         |
              |l|  Bank           |
  ___________/   \________________/ 
                   Oxford Street   * Tottenham Court 
                                       Road Station
                                        (Piccadilly Line)

a monkey is for life, not just for christmas - New Year Edition

Place: ?? Yo!Below
Date: ?? Saturday 30th December
Time: ??

Details to be confirmed...

Thoughts

  • Anyone found to be in possession of a poor imitation of a monkey will be laughed and pointed at until they buy the next round.
  • Anyone (heyoka) who kicks my crutches away will get their ankles nibbled on.
  • WyldWynd for crimes against Mornington Crescent and suggesting we drink in a student bar... ahem...
    will be welcomed with open arms and offered many free drinks in the spirit of the season.
  • RalphyK's real name is either Art or Munchkin.
  • Anyone who laughs at my eyebrow will probably have no ankles left.
  • fondue the proper spelling of haX0r is rm -rf /home/$LUSER.
I seem to have picked up this reputation for being the BOFH or some SysAdmin horror, I'm all peace and joy really. Well I'm medicated at the moment...
Tarnation, and expectoration.

I will be in London until the 16th (definitely), but can't stay long after that (20th?). So earlier would be good for me.

Leave the monkey be.

(Wyldwynd likes Christmas because he is spoilt )

:b

UPDATE : (Fucken Hippos!)

OK, I have rigged it so I am here until the 20th now. Some clarifications, having just absorbed this increasingly lengthy node :

WyldWynd : Just because you have no respect for the value of things. You have a £2000 Breitling watch. I get a lump of coal that took 10,000,000 years to form, and produces pure, pure energy. You materialistic son of a bitch - don't make me unleash the monkey on you. He may look chilled now but he's an expert in the Drunken Master style of monkey kung-fu.

RalphyK : Deserves a drink for making my laugh my arse off on writeup after writeup.

FelonyMPulse : Can haX0r me or WyldWynd at any time, so we have to respect his authoritaaah.

Heyoka : We WILL get you on film this time.

C. M. : I can't believe you knicked Gnarl's wallet, yeah the photo on his Blockbuster Video card is pretty damn funny.

Dizzy : Sorry I'm gonna miss you this time round man (sniff)

And now we present the key of C :

C!

Shut up about that bloody Pogues song(?). You all know that Slade's (So Here It Is) Merry Christmas is the best.

Me memememememe. I'll come, though I'll need fondue to chaperone me of course.

Heh, and btw I really like Christmas so nerrr.

And please don't hurt me about Mornington Crescent. Please?


RalphyK: I meant that *I* used to work in shop that played said songs all Christmas. Even worse - it was Dixons so I had to sell people PCs with a straight face - ARGH!. Except I love the Fairytale of New York and so should everyone. :) How can Ronan Keating have covered it? ARGH again. I still like it though.

Fondue is just jealous because he lives in Wales and gets a lump of coal and a whip and top for Christmas....This isn't going to turn into a slanging match is it? Just 'cos you don't appreciate finely wrought mechanical devices/family heirlooms. And anyway, you know how much I am against systematic ridicule.

FelonyMPulse: Not a BOFH at all. No.

Christmas.

Pros:

  • People give you presents and cards.
  • Days off work.
  • Stuff on telly.
  • Roaring fires, turkey, tons of unhealthy food, plenty of booze.
  • No-one looks at you funny if you spark up a spliff at 10am.

Cons:

  • You have to give people presents and cards. The people you haven't sent cards to always send you a fucking card the day before the post stops for a fucking month, so when you quickly toss one off (so to speak) they know you weren't going to send one, and are only sending it to be polite.
  • Those 2 or 3 stupid days at work in between Christmas and New Year when no fucker is going to bother phoning or doing anything.
  • Mary fucking Poppins, Sound of fucking Music, and the increasingly irrelevant Top of the Pops Christmas Day version.
  • Drugs drought.
  • Shop managers: "Hmm, here's an idea to get the customers in the Christmas spirit - let's put on that CD of Christmas songs, the one with Fairytale of New York, Slade, Shakey, Wizzard, and Paul McCartney. And as the average customer only spends half an hour in our shop, let's leave it on repeat play - the staff won't mind. Come on, it's Christmas!" - Every single fucking shop you go into, the same 10 fucking songs, over and over and over. Do they have no idea? It's the same old shit, every time, what the fuck made you think I'll enjoy hearing "Last Christmas" by George Michael for the 10,000th time? Please, please, just make it stop before I snap and go on a fucking killing spree.

I want to come and worship the monkey. The monkey is wise. The monkey has much to offer me. I am around for the whole of the Christmas period. Call on me, and I will fight the good fight against sobriety.


WyldWynd: Oh, sorry, my bad. But yes, it's true, he's done the cover version with Maire Brennan from Clannad - and changed "you cheap lousy faggot" to "you're cheap and you're haggard". What a freak, eh?

fondue: I'll take that drink, and drink it too. How's that for a bargain??

FelonyMPulse: I'll fucking munchkin you, he said, in that bizarre parentspeak. I'll bloody well bicycle you, my mother said once, when I asked for a bicycle. I still don't understand how she planned on doing that. Anyway, it's crutch kickin time, boy - I had my ankles removed for tax reasons, so you don't scare me.

Or, Conversations with a Chilled Monkey.


I was down on Old Compton Street picking up some premium grade Bolivian High... espresso beans last weekend. Who should i see strolling-- well, flung-- out of Groucho's, but our good old drinking buddy, The Chilled Monkey.

"Aw, yeah, well, yer mother sauced my gob, Mick," he muttered, then straightened his tail at the sight of me. "Gnarl, get me a coffee!"

We grabbed a couple of chairs at Bar Italia, and started doing that watching all the tourists trip over each other on the wee strip of the sidewalk, or almost get run over by black cabs.

"Holy Halves of Coconuts, C. M, it's great to see you. But, you're looking a bit frayed around the edges."

"Aight, little buddy, this monkey's on the down and outs." his no fingered svelte paws still deftly rolled a Golden Virginia spinner.

"What happened to the modeling job? The girls who held your face to their chest and snuggled you? The Damien Hirst/Chilled Monkey Jungle Fever Cola (10 p to the blind for every can sold)? The Madonna Interactive porn CD?"

"Ah, the public ain't ready, fuck 'em. They're all after robot dogs and see-through washing machines. Hell, even the tart card promo for the Advice Line got busted up." His sewn-on silk smile seemed to crinkle down to a little frustrated frown.

"my god man, things are looking down for you." I was shocked, saddened for this little foam filled simian. I'd only had a brief conversation with him at the last London Noders Gathering, but just hanging around. I got the sense that he was one of those people gliding through life, letting the good times roll, and surfing on it.

"Not even, dude. I've got everywhere to go! I'm finding out who my real friends are, the ones who don't just want me as a plush toy, something to fling around the room or put on their head. I'm busking down at the Bethnal Green Museum of Childhood! Re-enacting great moments of organ grinding! here, listen to this!"

He broke out an accordion (or was it just a hurdy-gurdy?) and started singing softly, his paws and tails hitting the notes in an off-tune and haunting melody, his arms curling as he squeezed the box back and forth:

I'm under your feet
picking up pennies
spare me your change
as i dance

i look such a sight
cavorting tonight
watch me smile wide
as i dance

tomorrow's tomorrow
right now is right now
forget your troubles
as i dance

and drop all your coins
i'll pick them up
spare me your change
as i dance

"My god, CM. That's beautiful." The waiters all applauded, and served him a lime and soda.

"well, just a little something. usually i pull kid's ears and screech a lot. But hey, it's art, buddy. Oh, i'm off that banana skin shit. got to where I'd go through a pile of 'em and it was just like doing sassafras."

"nice one."

"Mother-of-pearl! look at the time!" He checked his watch (The Swatch 1995 series, with the Beastie Boys Airplane on the face.) "Gonna meet up with a Sock Monkey at the Museum I've had my eye on. Oh, the smile on her! and that tuft of yarn on her head!" There was a faraway look in his porcelain eye.

"good luck, CM. any chance you'll make the next gathering? Next weekend, and then two weekends later."

"Cool. /msg me with the time and place. Catch you later."

With that, he bounded off with a springy gait that lifted my spirits even more. Here was a brave little stuffed monkey, living his life, moving on, spreading his art through music and small antics. If he could do it, why can't I?

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