Sunday, January 07, 2018

The Draft Diary of a Country Non-Working Something Or Other

There is much to relate, except I can't, because I live in a village and it is insane and I don't know where to begin (donkeys stuck in storm drains, windmills, sloe gin competitions, a trumpeting minister at the chapel, choir stuck in a snowstorm, owning a nouveau riche Aga). 

In desperation, I have started going through old drafts seeing if, perhaps, there is something I can revive for the sake of you, my adoring readers and/or fans.  Here is (almost the full) list of draft titles. (Sadly, there is no Christian Nudist colony in the village, otherwise I'd be right there - without my apron.)

"Cottaging, Pt 2"
"The Country Diary of A Non-Working Monkey"
"A Good Day, Middle-Aged Stylee"
"When A Monkey Is Tired Of Cauliflower"
"What Is A Millennial?"(i) 
"Lost Weekend"
"Bryan Adams"
"Grey's Anatomy" (ii)
"Still Not Much Happening"
"I Am In London (And Hastings)"
"I Am In Austin Again"
"Too Many Hotels"
"Hullo!!!" (iii)
"I Am Tied Up"
"I Am Invited To A Christian Nudist Brownie Bake-Off (No Aprons)"
"I Reveal My Celebrity Pals, 2000-2005" (iv)
"I Am In Texas"
"I Will Not Touch Your Lobster"
"I Suffer From Post-Traumatic Prog Rock Syndrome"
"Je Suis Dépaysé"
"I Find A New Use For Boris Johnson"
"I Receive A Radish From A Pathologist"

I'm going to try very hard to revive "The Country Diary of a Non-Working Monkey". With an eye on the future (i.e., we would like to stay here for a long time and I like my neighbours), I will be taking some 'poetic licence'.

Wish me well, dear readers and/or fans.  Wish me well. And if there are any aspects of country life you would like to hear more about, just say the word.

Pip pip!


(i) Some early promise here: "Please write a short exposition on the meaning of millennial", writes MonkeyMother, frantically puffing on her pipe. "Our friend Jane will keep calling them milleniums (sic)."

(ii) "I have started watching Grey's Anatomy. This is because I am" And there it stops dead.

(iii) "Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring. Who is there? Yes. It is me.  I phoned myself yesterday from my office phone.  "Why is the office calling me?", I asked myself, mobile in one hand and landline receiver in the other.  These are strange days, my friends; days that, as they pass, build and fold into a possible screenplay that no-one would believe, not even a person 'tripping' on LSD c. 1968."

(iv) This is VERY FUNNY in places, but also VERY RUDE in places about some 'living celebrities', which is probably why it's a draft (although it is highly unlikely that anyone would drag me, a monkey, through a court of Law).   Includes accidentally seeing the manstick of Nick Bateman from Big Brother c. 1987,  an encounter with Lisa Riley and a flying harness, home decoration tips from the (genuinely fabulous) Laurence Llewellyn-Bowen and a physics lesson in a Winnebago from none other than Johnny Ball.




Unknown said...

I'd like to see "I Suffer From Post-Traumatic Prog Rock Syndrome.

Dave Shelton said...

You had me at "Johnny Ball". Although, as that was the very last thing you wrote, that might sound a bit dismissive. The rest sounds great too. But Johnny Ball? Come on!


@daveshelton as you know I will do anything for you so I will definitely WRITE THAT UP. My main issue is however that no-one is interested in KALE.


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