Exciting stuff this week, Monkey Broth-ers. We’ve just received official news that Hornbag, Biffordshire, has been selected as Duvet Times and Blanket News’ official page three village! It’s a real honour for the good folk of Hornbag, who are rightly proud of their picturesque and quintessentially picturesque village. Nestled between the Busty Downs of East Biffordshire, Hornbag is a village steeped in picturesque history. If you get a moment, do visit Old Ma’s Spring museum showcasing different types of spring from across the village. Once you have seen both springs, then enjoy a much needed reviver at the The Crow’s Crack Inn on Whump Avenue, just opposite Budgens. Hornbag, come for a day and stay for a day!
To celebrate Hornbag’s elevation to the dizzying heights of becoming Duvet Times and Blanket News’ page three village of the month, we’ve dedicated our public services announcement to all things Hornbag. So if you are in Hornbag, BE in Hornbag by immersing yourself in everything this quintessentially picturesque village has to offer!
Hornbag’s Premier Indian Restaurant, The Harvest Moon, is just too pleased to announce a new addition to our most popular menu. After much pleading by Hornbaggians we’ve turned the famous local Hornbag delicacy into a curry! Yes, for the first time, you can now enjoy overweight, sweaty paper boy masala or, for a special creamy treat, why not plump for overweight, sweaty, paper boy korma! Hornbaggians receive no discount so get along to the Harvest Moon, situated just yards from this theatre! Call the Harvest Moon on Hornbag 7688976. You’ll have reservations about visiting!
Having a dinner party? Great! So am I! Call Gordon Bleu on Hornbag 558737 for more details.
Need to look busy at work? Well, let us glue a phone to the side of your face! Glue Phone has been operating out of Hornbag since 1887 and we are fine purveyors of glue and phones. If you have a big meeting coming up but don’t fancy it, simply give us a call and we’ll glue a phone to your face, right there and then! Ideal treat for the busy corporate executive in your life! Not to be confused with Glued To The Television Company in Cleft.
Moles – Huh! What are they good for? Absolutely nothing! So goes the famous poem by William Shakespeare. But that’s where you are wrong, because here at Moles to Poles we know much better than you! Turn your unwanted moles into poles today. No mole too small; so whether your tent needs much needed restoration or your daughter is getting married and the spoilt little cow wants the big showy wedding, and guess what Daddy, you’re paying for it, and you need a marquee put up quick then let us know. Why buy expensive poles when we can turn your unwanted moles into poles for you? Some self-assembly is required. Hornbag 45454545
Giant Inflatable Kittens – have been hitting the news recently and why not? They are only too adorable. Often the preserve of the rich and famous, now you too can own and enjoy a taste of Hollywood’s latest craze. For a quite a big fee actually we’ll happily lower giant inflatable kittens on to your roof. 24 hour emergency call out rate applies, roof owner must supply own gas in order to inflate giant kittens.
Biffordshire… ah Biffordshire. Its rolling green and pasture rich hills, its sweet bubbling brooks and the song of larks in the air. Biffordshire… ah Biffordshire.
It’s an ancient county, steeped in gloriously thick history. It’s as thick as, ooo we don’t know, mud, or nutella mixed with cornflour, perhaps. Maybe it’s as thick as a good pair of loyal corduroy trousers or otter fur after it’s been for a dip in one of Biffordshire’s sweet bubbling brooks. Anyway, part of Biffordshire’s ancient traditions is the Biffordshire Summer Games® and this summer we are saying let the games commence!
Open to all residents of Biffordshire, the Biffordshire Summer Games 2013® offer Biffordshirians across the glorious county the chance to meet up and take part in some sweaty and oh-so-healthy competitive sports. And now Monkeybroth is underwhelmed to announce that entries are open and are very much actively being sought for the event, to be held at Gangly Manor in June. Full details on the various challenges and how to enter are below. But first, to get you all giddy and aroused, here’s a rallying call from the Biffordshire Summer Games 2013® chairperson Marjorie Go-Getem, who says with lots of fantastic challenges to choose from, this year’s games will be better than ever! “With lots of fantastic challenges to choose from, this year’s games will be better than ever!” she said.
Biffordshire Summer Games 2013 challenges
Frog Bonding – a tricky challenge for even the most gifted of amphibian smooth talkers! The games’ organisers have selected five pairs of brooding frogs, all of whom have fallen out considerably over the years and are now no longer talking. The challenge will involve getting them to communicate with each other once again, perhaps through a series of open and candid sessions where they can revisit the reasons why they met and fell in love in the first place. Please note our frog pairings are close to divorce – you could say they are at frogger-heads, so only serious and experienced Frog Bonders should think about taking part. For details, contact Arthur Combine-Harvester on Moistbury 789766.
Dog Guessing – pretty much does what it says on the tin. We’ll be putting various items into a big sack cloth and you have to guess whether each item is a dog or not. As in previous years, participants will only be able to handle each bag for five seconds and must shout clearly ‘DOG’ or ‘NOT DOG’ in order to be properly judged. If you own a dog, and don’t mind it being tied up in a sack all afternoon, please get in touch. No Pekinese please, as they feel too much like toasters through a heavy cloth sack. For more information, contact Group Captain Edward Even-Love on Cleft 237888
Hazelnut Shy – Come and have a go at knocking off hazelnuts which have been glued to bits of bamboo 12 feet away! We’ll provide you with the subbuteo balls to throw at the hazelnuts; you just need to bring your hazelnut knocking-off skills. Due to expected demand, please register with Gordonette Dingle-Dangle on Orifice-on-the-Mole, 333879
Tug-of-Whore – Biffordshire’s finest will be out in the sunshine for a change for this test of strength and dexterity. We currently have two teams booked for the event; Mrs Marplewhip’s ‘£10’ crew and an as yet unnamed team from the house of ill repute on Clam Street, Orifice-on-the Mole. Come on ladies and brothel runners – the good name of your establishment is on the line! For details, and to hear me fix my lawn mower dressed only in a boiler suit and trilby, call Monica Badcheeks on Titbury 696969. This year’s competition has been kindly sponsored by the Our Lady of David Essex Church, Hornbag, Biffordshire.
Seagull arranging – Biffordshire WI are once again delighted to be running this year’s seagull arranging competition in the main marquee. We are now open for registration, so whether you are an experienced seagull arranger or have never even touched a Guillemot before why not come along and see what all the fuss is about? Last year’s supreme champion Annabelle Ihavenobeard will be demonstrating her seagull arranging skills all afternoon, so pick up some tips and get involved why don’t you? For more details and to arrange a delivery of complimentary seagulls for arranging, call Mrs G Dimpled-Thighs on Surecock 4567888.
Scampi shoes – by Darren Bilgejump
The man he is becomes a who,
When he wears his scampi shoe,
When time to eat he always tries,
To consume packs of Scampi Fries
Because the ladies love him too,
When he shows his scampi shoe,
Breeds jealousy in in other guys,
With scampi he barely has to try
The secret to disguise the smell,
He dabs on fragrant greasy gel,
Will he ever be the same,
The scampi shoe that is now tamed
Your dreams explained… with Ethel Sprout
Hello, Ethel Sprout here, Monkeybroth’s resident dream-monger and all round astral projecting, subconscious examining harbinger of hope.
Oh dear Monkeybrothers, I am sure many of you have heard of me as I am truly the dream explainer to the stars. You name them, and I have charged exorbitant amounts of money to go through their night time mind wanderings to come up with some two-bit explanation which really bears no resemblance to the true meanings of their sweaty nocturnal expirations, all carried out in the back room of my flat just off the Ealing Broadway. John Cleese? Well, no not him. Timothy Spall, no, not him either. Cherie Blair? Look…shall we just get on with this for Christ’s sake?
Thank you to all those who have already written in to me. I am now preparing myself to open my third eye, to raise myself to the level of the subconscious, to find my inner karma and to reveal to you, dear Monkeybrothers, the true meaning of your dreams. For further help please do get in touch – oh you dear confused rabbits, no I don’t need my palm to be crossed with silver for me to aid you. I am, however, partial to a drop of Budgens own brand sweet sherry. In fact it’s essential for me to truly find my zone and explain your dreams in your dreams explained with Ethel Sprout.
A couple of nights ago, I dreamt that a winged tortoise flew in through my bedroom window and circled above my head, before ever so gently defecating into my husband’s open and snoring mouth. He did not stir throughout the whole terrible experience, but woke the next morning with a terrible thirst and a hankering for Findus Crispy Pancakes –chicken and mushroom flavour. What does it all mean?
K. Creole, Gammon Rind, Piffleshire
Truly troubling times in the Creole household. Tortoises, in my opinion, are not as good as turtles who can swim, giving them a serious advantage in an underwater environment. Yes, tortoises have small legs with claws, but surely the turtle’s magnificent flippers are superior in every department. The fact that the tortoise gently defecated in your husband’s mouth is key to unravelling the mystery behind your dream. He’s having an affair poor, poor K. Kick him out now and if you start dreaming about him having aubergines in his pocket then we really do need to talk.
Please help me; I don’t know what else to do. A few nights back I woke in a cold sweat after dreaming that my son’s BMX came to life and began flirting with me outrageously. It would drop various items from its handlebars, such as its bell and speedometer, before asking me to bend down in front of it and pick the items up. As I did so I could hear air escaping from its tyres in a sort of ‘phwoar’ sound. This happened over a number of days in my dream and came to a head when I bent down to check it’s tyre pressure. It then clearly honked the words ‘while you are down there, love’. Night after night I dreamt I was being viciously verbally and sexually assaulted by my son’s BMX. What does it all mean? For the record it’s a Diamond Back Pro bike with yellow mag wheels and integrated suspension. It cost a lot of money so I have to say I expected far better from it.
Gloria Office-Printer, Table-Cloth-On-The-Hill, Shireshire
How awful for you dear Gloria, or may I call you Glozza? You know, many of my clients ask me if they should act on their dreams. They say, Ethel, should I follow my dreams? I say you’ve got to have a dream; otherwise I would be out of a job and evicted from my Ealing flat. We have a laugh about that one, me and the stars. This is a perfect example of following your dreams, Glozza. You are clearly attracted to your son’s BMX and your dream is a nocturnal projection of your desire. Run away with it, Glozza ,and surely your love will be cemented in a golden future of pedalling, endos, bunny hops and grazed knees and elbows. Oh how I envy you Glozza.
Last night I dreamt, bow, di bow, di bow… that somebody loved me
For the love of creosote, grow up man. Oh and I have spoken to the council about that punctured bicycle of yours on the hill side. Get it moved by Tuesday or I shall speak to the police, it’s blocking my drive.
My god, I’m in a terrible state. My recurring dream is about dolphins. Many Monkeybroth readers may well say how lovely that would be. After all, the playful aquatic mammals are one of Mother Nature’s most charming and endearing organisms, all intelligent like and brainy. However, my dream is horrific in its nature. I’ve weed the duvet in fear on many occasions, I don’t mind admitting. Nearly every night I dream I am driving along a deserted road, when I see a clearly down-on-his-luck dolphin hitchhiking by the side of the road. This dolphin is dishevelled, bearded and dressed in a long rain mac with a trilby pitched at crooked angle on his head. His flippers are wrapped in plastic bags tied up with bits of string. Every night I pick the dolphin up and we drive to the nearest Little Chef, the convenient and often well placed roadside eatery.
The dolphin orders the full Olympic breakfast while I make do with a white coffee and a toasted teacake. To pass the time before our order arrives we play a game of travel twister, which the dolphin takes great delight in slowly unravelling in front of my horrified eyes. Every night I lose this game of mammal- on -man Twister despite the reach of my limbs being far superior to his own appendages. What does it mean, Ethel? Please help me.
Duncan Brush, St Potato-on-the-Waffle, Biffordshire
I am so sorry to hear that you are having a dream about dolphins. How awful for you. I don’t think you realise just how wonderful dolphins are. They swim, they lark about, they rescue divers from secret underwater lairs. They can read and write and book package holidays the whole family will enjoy. They are excellent knitters and many are quite musical. One dolphin I know reached Grade Four Clarinet, just weeks after picking it up for the first time. How dare you dolphin bash Duncan, how dare you.
To get to the bottom of your dreams, write to Ethel Sprout, enclosing a bottle of Budgen’s own sweet sherry, to Ethel Sprout c/o Monkeybroth Towers, Biffordshire. We are sorry but we cannot return any of your pictures.
Huffing for pebbles – by Verity Spikeflume
Taken on the face of it,
I think that I have been hit,
By culture and some awesome scenes,
And beer produced from pubs with beams
I believe the man that tells me that,
He pokes crickets with a cricket bat,
Although I have to have suspicion,
I think that he’s a dietician.
Bless this beagle that cross’eth my path,
And feed him fudge that’s made in Bath,
Bleat like a crocus and shine like a moat,
Huffing pebbles is a peculiar quote
And reader, while you read this drivel,
Your brain will most likely shrivel,
As I’m sure that you’re all aware,
This week’s poem is a bit rubbish.