I am not sure what you think, but it is Tuesday so you have the rest of the week to decide, and if you don't like the questions then I cannot help you until tomorrow, when I will be using the words 'crustacean' and 'carapace' in one blog post whilst holding a linen handkerchief doused in cologne over my retching mouth.
So. To the questions. They are good ones, I must confess. We start with the magnificent Y S Lee.
Why Hula Hoops?
Delicious texture: so super-crunchy, then they stick in your teeth. Salty. Can put them on the end of your fingers even if you are old and your fingers are fat like gigantic pork sausages.
3 things that need to be invented.
1. Funnel thing for putting peppercorns into your pepper mill;
2. An interesting newspaper for Canada;
3. A beaver pet shop and a new paradigm* of what is and isn't acceptable in the pet world, i.e. it becomes socially acceptable for me to buy a small beaver and bring it up so that I can train it to sit on my lap, fetch twigs, not chew trees (unless permitted), lie on its back to have its tummy tickled, call it Graham, be microchipped, accept tiny snacks from my soft receiving hands, etc.
Sting's ultimate fate (deserved).
Trudie will leap to her feet in a tantric style and will attempt (and succeed) the Heimlich manoeuvre. The bone will shoot out of the preening cockmonkey's suspiciously taut organic yoga neck, bouncing into his organic rubber yoga ball, only to rebound and shoot into his eye and from there, into his tiny brain.
Astonishingly, the organic yoga fishbone will then find its target (i.e., Sting's tiny brain) despite having to travel through his eye and thence his brain (which is mostly made of tofu) causing an immediate and painless death.
Tracy Lynn asks: I will admit to some curiosity as to what ever happened to that fat bastard of a cat you were housing in Brixton.
Can you name us your top ten dinner party guests, living or dead.
I have thought about this for a bit and the conclusion is that it would be people who I already know, like, and don't see enough of, although I'd like to have Sting round for dinner so I could wee in his soup.
Lord Philth asks:
Have you ever farted loudly in a supermarket (Montreal or elsewhere)?
Not loudly, no.
Jam or marmalade?
Both, but only the ones out of the actual jam and marmalade making hands of either me or my mother, MonkeyMother.
Have you ever been too lazy to take the wrapper off an Opal Fruit (Starburst) and eat it "as is"?
Yes, but only once. Excellent question. Strange but definitely not unpleasant, and I swallowed the paper, too.
Some questions from Anonymous:
What would you do or where would you go if you were invisible for one day?
I would go to Sting's house and I would wee in his soup.
Have you ever been sick through your nose?
Yes, and it hurts like all the worst fires of hell. Almost as bad is when you burp and are a bit sick in your mouth. Awful.
Are there any circumstances that would justify a Genesis reunion (inc Peter Gabriel)
Yes, pretty much any and I would welcome it in some ways. I do not hate Genesis. I just hate the endless Genesis that goes on and on and on and on (although I like this after the stupid bit at the beginning). I don't hate it as much as I hate the Yes that goes on and on and on and on, mind you, so I don't think there would be any excuse for a Yes reunion, particularly as from what I understand Jon Anderson is a right twat.
(A little known fact about the early Monkey years is that MonkeyFather used to punish us (i.e., me and my brother, RunningMonkey), with prog rock; if we were really bad, we were locked in the basement with no supper and "Yessongs" on repeat. I will write more about this another day. The pain is still a bit too alive in my memory, as it were.)
Who in your esteemed opinion is the biggest preening cockmonkey in advertising?
Easy, but I cannot say it in public. He is in New York and he really is a gigantic twat.
Do you play a musical instrument?
No, but I fancy the Jew's Harp might be "my" instrument, were I to play one.
Sama writes:
I would like to know WHEN you discovered that you were simian, ditto your family, and how?
We have always known. How and why I cannot explain. We just have.
* people use this word in advertising agencies a lot without really knowing what it means. "We are going to create a new paradigm for communications strategies", for e.g. Amazing.
12 comments:
>2. An interesting newspaper for Canada
It could have been worse! Instead of Bob Geldof and Bono guest-editing the Globe and Mail yesterday, it could have been... well, you know.
Amazing. You have prompted me to realise that I too have eaten an Opal Fruit with the wrapper on, and yes it wasn't entirely unpleasant, and yes, I did swallow the wrapper. How startling.
I used to have a cat that looked like Monster. His name was Ronnie and he used to have a favourite pet spider toy and growl if you took it away from him. His brother was called Reggie and was the pianist in a secret cat Jazz Bar on weekends.
Would you serve organic trout to Sting after the soup just to add insult to injury btw?
I liked 'Sting's ultimate fate (deserved)' more than words could ever express.
I used to work in IT where people were forever going on about paradigms. For a while I was actually interested and tried asking a few people what it meant, but I never got a straight answer. It is clearly a made-up word and means nothing at all.
I'm intrigued by the whole Starburst thing. Was that question a plant from someone who already knew the answer, or is this really a thing that people do independent of one another? I don't think I could do it. I do eat apple cores though, and have been doing it so long I get very confused when people look astonished at the wholesale vanishment of the fruit in my hand.
The Opal Fruit (Starburst) question is not a plant; it's more of a rhododendron bush. Nevertheless, I thought I was the only one who did it. Clearly, I'm not alone. The wrappers are so tightly wrapped around those chewy monsters that temptation often outweighs patience, especially when I've just cut my nails. I swallow the paper too, thus far with no ill effects.
Excellant questions;fantastic answers. Monkeys are so very clever.
I'm very disappointed to hear that Sting's death will be immediate and painless.
But now I'm very curious about the logistics of weeing in soup. Clearly it has to be bowl-of not big-enormous-pan-of as you are trying to only widdle ONE person's soup and not the whole tableworths. But it all seems a bit difficult, and possibly dangerous depending on how hot the soup is. Perhaps you could make this a summer-only sort of thing and do gazpacho only? Or I suppose the bowl could be empty...
Megan - I strongly suspect that NWM wouldn't mind if Mrs Sting's soup was also peed in. She already looks like she habitually sucks lemons. Mrs Sting that is,not NWM.
Ali x
If Sting did come for dinner, what flavour would the soup be, what else would you serve and how would you make Sting's portion be "special"?
And my authorization word has just been "dietrust." Oh, indeed we do.
Just inspired. Thank you, NWM.
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