Monkery

Coat hooks. Put them up on the wall. Don’t put coats on them all. Leave a few spaces. Throw coats in the cupboard.
Sad End. A depressing place to live. The sun never shone, everyone was grey. The talk was of how miserable everything was. All conversations were of a pessimistic nature. One day, a small child planted some flower seeds. Several weeks later they bloomed into the most beautiful, colourful display. It didn’t make a jot of difference.
Driving the van was excellent. His arm was out of the window, the radio tuned to Radio Jolly. He had one more delivery to make and it was only 2:30. He would be home by 3.

The rain poured down. At some point it was bound to stop. Tin roof. Harry didn’t have a tin roof. He had a putting green in his living room. It was gnarly. But not nearly gnarly enough. He would build a ramp at each end and ramp over the green on his BMX. Radical.

The Russion space station was as big as 10 football fields. Vladimir Vodak quite liked being onboard, sometimes he would look out of the porthole into the black, deadly, empty void. Sometimes he wished that someone would swim past the window and this thought made him laugh. Doktor Vadlinky watched Vladimir on the tele/audio system. Vlad was laughing to himself again and looking into space. Should he put sedatives into the guys’ food? Was that moral? Moral? What WAS moral? If they said anything he would sedate them all and then eject them into space, hahahaha.

Ramlinov read Vadlinky’s report about Vodak’s behaviour “space madness”. “Sounds like space madness to me”

The supermarket had a lot of tins in it. Bang would like to try and steal some tins by making a specially converted trolley. He knew he would need mirrors, magnets and a grabbing arm but other than that the plan was not fully formed. He purchased a mig welder as he felt sure he would need one of those. He didn’t have a welding mask but was sure that a balaclava would do instead.

How can anyone stand to walk in the rain? It’s ghastly!
“Crikey Bongos!” Cried Artisan Chope “that’s the 14^th time that Bangly Ongo has leapt off the bridge into the river. He’s a bridge jumpin’ nut.
The blue shirt was quite nice. He picked it out himself. There was a blue one, a green one and an orange one and he picked the blue one. He would wear the orange one tomorrow.

Where in the world can you get such a service huh? Huh? Only a here.
The time has come to write the final chapter of this tribute to Monkery. To sum up; Monkery was a big pile of rubbish. It never existed and even if it did I couldn’t care less about it.
To sum up; Monkery was one of THE best things about living in the 18^th Century. Monkery was bright. Monkery was cheerfull, Monkery was forward thinking, Monkery was efficient.
Sunning myself on top of a city building on a scorching hot day was pleasant. The smell of melting tar was the smell track for the summer.

The argument continued. Should they go to Morocco or carry on to Italy.