Friday, July 03, 2009

A chimp is bereaved

So it seems that Michael Jackson died from an overdose of grapefruit juice. Poor chap. It’s all too easy for a famous singer to acquire such dangerous habits. Barry Manilow was addicted to Dr Pepper for many years – it got so bad that his sneezes sprayed a fine mist of the soft drink into the atmosphere. He might have killed someone if they hadn’t fitted filters inside his nostrils. Let us hope that Michael’s tragic end will alert people to the toxic menace of the grapefruit.

Jacko’s sad demise means the title of “Whitest Black Man on Earth” is once again up for grabs. Obviously it should go to a real person rather than a mountebank like Ali G. Producing a shortlist that everyone will agree to will be a major challenge. Many will insist that Mungo Jerry should be a candidate, while others might put forward the name of some obscure Nigerian albino. To my way of thinking only A-list celebrities should be allowed to compete, which rules out Mungo Jerry. Lionel Ritchie has a pretty strong case, but I think the bookie’s favourite will be Tom Jones.

The rumour that Bubbles the chimp will inherit $20 million from the Jackson estate is causing much excitement in the jungle. No one expects Bubbles to make a gratis donation, so the chimps in my neighbourhood are angling for a share of the loot. Being shameless whores, their preferred scheme is prostitution. Even the local alpha males are saying they’d take it up the butt from Bubbles for a generous stipend. Personally, I hope he doesn’t give them a cent. If he has any sense he’ll tour the globe from zoo to zoo, bribing the keepers to let him shag the captive females. Having spent all those years in Never-got-laid-land he has plenty of lost time to make up for.

I hope, above all, that the will isn’t contested. It depresses me beyond measure to see the relatives of a deceased human descend on the corpse like squabbling vultures to peck at the bones. I am sure that Bubbles will accept his bequest with good grace, whatever its magnitude. May Jacko’s family show similar respect for the wishes of their departed son.

Having accumulated a tidy amount of cash from my circus career, I have left very precise instructions for its disbursement following my death. After a decent period of mourning, my lawyers will announce that all my assets are to be donated to the Gay Orangutans’ Benevolent Fund. This will be a ruse. I have no intention of leaving any money to the gay orangutans, who are perfectly capable of fending for themselves. The purpose of the hoax would be to smoke out undeserving characters from my list of potential inheritors. After making the bogus announcement, my lawyers will apply the following rules:

• anyone who attempts to contest the will gets nothing;

• anyone who complains (or insults my memory) gets a bunch of sour grapes and a raw onion;

• anyone who says “Well done gay orangutans!”, or words to that effect, may claim an equal share of my estate;

• anyone who attempts to pass himself off as a gay orangutan gets a pair of vinyl hot pants and a bottle of lube.

You can’t take your money with you, but you can certainly make the living jump through hoops to get their hands on it. It is a posthumous consolation of sorts.

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That's a very wise will, Mr Bananas. I just hope the small print says it was a joke and you leave everything to your beloved females and offsprings. After all, it seems you're quite well-off, not like the deceased M.J.

PS.- Barry Manilow killed many more singing 'Copacabana' than spraying people with Dr Peppers. (Have you seen the film 'Mars attacks'? The little evil martians' green brains exploded inside their helmets when a country song was heard on the background- Well, Copacabana had some similar effects.

My brain is a bit roasted too tonight. We have nearly 40ºC these days in the South Sadwich Islands. I'll try not to drink grapefuit juice, just in case.
Senor Bananas, I think your will makes way too much sense for a will. Well done!

My will would include me being as obtuse as possible. I would leave any money I had (fat chance!) to my loved ones, nice and easy, but the much more fun stuff would be for my enemies, to whom I'd bequeath every insignificant or broken item in my estate. That cracked, yellow plastic pencil sharpener I keep forgetting to throw out? Enjoy, psycho ex stalker! No you're WELCOME! My dirty laundry? Please do appreciate its wonderful aroma, snobby private school girl who once told me I smelled like pudding.

So on and so forth for hours and hours. My only regret would be that I was too dead to see the reactions.
Mr GB - I would naturally wear widow's weeds on the occasion of your demise, spend years in inconsolable grief and lie prostrate on your grave, bewailing your absence. Such is the regard I have for you, which cannot be rewarded in mere monetary munificence.
Michael Jackson DIED ?
I like your idea gb. I may just have to get a will just to try it.

As for 'blackest white man', I'd like to nominate Leonardo Di Caprio in Body of Lies (a film I ended up watching on the plane back yesterday after being denied sleep). Apparently he looks so black that he can walk up to some Syrians with a goatee, a beanie hat and wearing a nightshirt and be so 'black' that he isn't recognised as a white american!
If I was a Jacko relative, I wouldn't care if the chimp got the money. More power to him, I'd say.

No, I'd fight for custody and ownership of the chimp. That way, you get access to all that money - to care for the poor animal, of course - and you don't have to pay any taxes on it, since the money doesn't belong to you.

At least, that's how I imagine it would play out.
I'd be quite happy with a pair of vinyl hotpants and a bottle of lube, it beats the umbrella and rape alarm I got from my nan one year.
Leni: Didn't Barry say his songs were like his children? Spoiled brats, most of them. I assume the showgirl called Lola was a fantasy woman.

Vegetable Assassin: Very clever! Ironic insults from the grave! But doesn't pudding smell rather nice?

Madame: Dear Madame Defarge, I shall leave you a special gift rather than money. Don't grieve for too long, I would rather you honoured my memory by learning a few jungle dances.

Heff: Could it be a gigantic hoax?

Red Squirrel: Really? Do you think he fooled them by his swagger or his accent?

Chris V: That's not a bad idea, but you'd have to accompany Bubbles on all his excursions. Being a chimp valet is hard work.

Rachel: What kind of siren does a rape alarm have, Rach? I have often wondered, purely from idle curiosity.
Ha, excellent idea! Chris Eubanks, if you let him speak rather than box, has a good shot at Whitest Black Man. (This competition could really work you know...)
I go out of my way to smell like pudding - I roll myself in caramel every morning
I imagine, Mr. Bananas, that the Gay orangutans would make you giggle as you are 'waking up' in the morning.
I'd rather not think of you passing on if you don't mind. Seeing as how we've just met that seems rather morbid! I'd rather think of you as some immortal gorilla god who will just be around for generations with wise words of advice for as long as I require you=) That's fair, right?!
It is unclear how one becomes one of your deserving inheritors - I am willing to pick nits out of your fur etc for a huge share of the pie.
Michael jackson's father doesn't look all that affected by his sons dead. I hope he cut his dad out of his will.

Getting named in Michael Jackson’s will has to be both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, you’ll know that during his lifetime Michael Jackson considered you to be enough of a friend to repay you for your loyalty after his death. But on the other hand, Jesus, what on earth would you end up getting?

P.S. It should go to Tom Jones! His moves in the 'she's a lady videoclip (1974).... sigh.... and look at his afro :)
Oh GB, my hero

The fact that you recognise Tom as part man part beast just reinforces my belief that you are the most incisive of primates.

Yours in awe

Gadjo: Chris Eubank is trying to be both white and upper class. It's a tall order, but he's closer than most black boxers.

Nursemyra: You must smell great, Nursie!

Auri: Why thank you, Auri, I'll do my best to stay healthy for you.

Emma: You must let me spank you and pretend to enjoy it.

Donut girl: Could there be people who would be embarrassed to be named as his friend? Perhaps the money would soften the blow.

Ooonagh: He's a towering figure for all jungle primates, Oonagh. Female gorillas just love the way he moves his arse.
I'm glad I can rely on you, Bananas. There was nothing about all this on the BBC News.
Vinyl hot pants and a bottle of lube? I like it. If you name me as executor of your estate, I'll see that all the gay orangutans get the appropriate funds... and take a percentage for myself!
"Rachel: What kind of siren does a rape alarm have, Rach? I have often wondered, purely from idle curiosity"

Like a quieter but more ear-splitting car alarm. Learning is fun!
My dear friend Imelda was left with a pedigree angora cat when its owners left the country, and a generous allowance to feed it on fresh salmon and cream. Amazing how quickly that cat got used to Whiskas. It's also now 108 years old. Or so its former owner thinks.

The blackest white woman has to be Julie Driscoll, and the whitest black woman Cleo Laine. Or possibly Mariah Carey.
Thank you sir... make sure you get your daily dose of more than just bananas. Some protein and a good multi-vitamin would do you good. Drink lots of water.

Oh yah, don't forget the gratuitous amounts of sex=) I hear it adds to long life.
A noble sentiment, sir!

When I die, I wish to be buried with my money. I cannot imagine a luxurious mansion in heaven will come cheap, you know.
For the blackest white woman award, can I please nominate my husband's niece (a trainee beauty therapist) who turned up at a recent family wedding so brown with spray tan that I thought for one moment that the happy couple had hired Beyonce to sing.
Kevin: The BBC are always the last to get to the bottom of a story.

Ms Salti: Beware of the gay orangutans. They don't take kindly to being hornswoggled by humans.

Rachel: Ear-splitting, eh? So your ears get raped instead of your lady parts. Fair enough.

Lady Daphne: Would that be Imelda Marcos? I bet she hogged the salmon and cream herself.

Auri: I'll follow you advice to the letter, Auri!

Lord Likely: Surely the mansion should be ready on your arrival, m'lud. It would be quite an honour for heaven to receive you!

Mrs Table: Silly girl! Someone should have told her that minstrel shows are no longer in good taste.
Hate to piss on your proverbial bonfire of bananas but Bubbles was stuffed years ago - he died shortly afterwards.
That's not what is says in wikipedia, Goth. You'd better correct their article on him.
"Didn't Barry say his songs were like his children? Spoiled brats, most of them. I assume the showgirl called Lola was a fantasy woman?"

Jeez, Mr Bananas... I only have a blurred image of Barry Manilow, actually I can't remember that (I was very little when I got that song stuck in my head and ended up hating it). Personally, I prefer The Kinks' Lola.
An excellent "exit strategy", Gorilla Bananas, but my heart does go out to Gay Orangutans. I may be wrong but I would suspect that growing up gay in the forests of Borneo comes with a number of challenges.

Dangling your considerable wealth in their faces and then ripping it away before they can get a taste seems a tad harsh.
I suspect that if any one can inherit anything at all from Jacko, it's the $500 million debt that he's left behind.
There is a flaw in your plan as there could be those among us who will try to pass themselves off as gay orangutans not for a share of your vast estate but simply to get in on the free "pair of vinyl hot pants and a bottle of lube" action.

Tread carefully, sir. You don't want a bunch of your readers showing up at the memorial sporting vinyl hot pants and clutching bottles of lube.

Or perhaps that is your plan all together
But what if they read your blog and are forewarned?
I hope you are well and healthy BTW.
PS: on your photo Tom looks more like an orange utang.
Mr Bananas , I can't help revealing that the Gay Orangutangs are not in reality getting a penny could be a mistake , they can be very bitter and vindictive
Leni: A blurred image of him is probably better than sharp focus given the size of his hooter.

Ram: The gay orangutans are an elite within the species who have appeared in Hollywood movies starring Clint Eastwood. Their assets are large enough to make any disappointment regarding my will slight.

Sidhu: That much? I wonder whom he borrowed it from.

Trish: My estate will provide vinyl hot pants and lube to whomever deserves them, Trish.

Pi: I'm very well and healthy, thanks. Tom Jones is actually an honorary gorilla.

Beast: I'm surprised you know them that well, Beast. Fortunately we live in different continents, so their vindictive nature is no threat.
Nice one. A fitting tribute to Michael Jackson ha ha ha or as Michael might say heee! heee! oowwww!
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