Monkey's Christmas

The monkey sat crouched in the corner of the room, sniffing as it
fingered the ragged tissue it had been using to wipe its pouring
nose.

'You really should go to the doctor about that.'

Albert smiled at the monkey, thinking it was about time that he showed
his furry friend some compassion. The monkey glared at him.

'And what do you think they'd say to me, eh?' The thick northern accent
really came through when the monkey had a cold. 'They never prescribe
the right things anyway. They've all got their heads up their own
arses.' The monkey continued snivelling, caught up in its own little
bubble of self-pity.

'Why don't you go to the vet then? Surely that'd be better suited, at
least they'd understand you a little better.'

'Pah!' The monkey spat on the floor. 'They're no fucking better! They
always treat me like an idiot, not even asking me how I feel! They
don't even value my fucking opinion! Bunch of arseholes the lot of
them!'

'Well, if that's how you feel then . . .'

'Yes,' the monkey interrupted, 'it is how I feel! Now why don't you go
back to watching the stupid fucking television and leave me the fuck
alone!' The monkey turned its back on Albert and pretended to read the
newspaper.

'Yesterdays bloody newspaper! What good is that to me? Bloody
Christmas, no consideration for us monkeys is there? They don't think
for one minute that we might want an up-to-fucking-date newspaper do
they?' The monkey sniffled again, to emphasise his pain.

Albert shuffled in his chair, reaching for the remote control to switch
to the pantomime. 'Why not listen to the radio then, or watch the panto
with me?' The final credits rolled onto the screen, a sure sign that
the pantomime had finished. 'Damnation,' he muttered to himself, 'it'll
have to be the Queen instead.'

'What was that?' The monkey turned and stared at Albert, its dark eyes
burning into him.

'What?'

'What you said just then.'

'When?'

'What did you just say?'

'Nothing.'

'You liar! You fucking well did, something about the Queen!' The monkey
leapt towards the sofa, prodding his bony finger at Albert.

'Well . . .'

'You're not putting that fucking woman on are you?' Its voice had
dropped to a threatening murmur.

'There's not much else on at the moment.' Albert shrugged towards the
monkey, who climbed on to the sofa next to Albert. It held out its
hand.

'Give me that remote.'

'No. It's mine.' Albert slipped it under his left leg, out of the
monkey's view, pretending that it was still in his hand.

'I will not listen to that fucking dyke prattle on about having an
'annus horribilus' and fucking weddings and shit like that. The
tight-arsed cow wouldn't know what a bad year was if it slapped her in
her fat fucking face. She's always so fucking miserable, waddling about
like a spoilt penguin, never doing anything except open fucking
supermarkets and swimming pools. What kind of kiddyfiddlers message is
she supposed to give the nation? What the fuck could she say that's
going to lift the spirits of the country? Batty old bitch.' The monkey
reached for its cigarettes.

'Well go out of the room then, go upstairs and have a bath or
something.' Albert moved his leg to cover the remote fully. 'No ones
forcing you to watch it are they?'

'They should let Prince Philip do it instead. He's always good for a
laugh.' The monkey lit a Benson and inhaled deeply. 'Those cracks about
the Japs and the Irish, fucking priceless. I swear to God that he's a
fucking genius.'

'Now you're being stupid.' Albert sighed. 'Go upstairs, or better still
make me a cup of tea and bring in those biscuits from the fridge. The
nice chocolate ones.' He was quietly confident that the biscuits would
do the trick.

'You make tea. It's your turn. Strong, a fair bit of milk and two
sugars.' The monkey sat back in its chair.

'No, you make it. You've got nothing else to do.' Albert pushed the
monkey on the arm, trying to edge it towards the door. The monkey
shoved back against him.

'Come on now. Give me that remote.'

'No. You'll only put some rubbish on.'

'At least check to see what's on then.'

Albert fished the remote control from under his leg and flicked through
the stations. 'Eastenders . . .'

'No. Cockney twats.' The monkey returned to its seat on the sofa, as
far away from Albert as possible.

'Birds of a Feather Christmas Special.'

'Definitely fucking not. I can't stand that fucking miserable bitch.
What's her name? You know, the blonde tart that looks like she got
slapped by the fat one. Cockney twats as well.'

'Hmmm' Albert tried to block the monkey's noise out by switching over
again.

'Highlights of this years Rugby World Cup. Could be good.' He liked the
rugby, the old schoolboy game. It reminded him of his youth at boarding
school.

'Pah! And people think that I'm a primate? Fucking rugby players. Think
that they can get away with anything because they're big. Twats.'
Albert flicked stations again.

'Ah, here we are. Through the Keyhole Christmas Special.'

'What?' The monkey looked astonished.

'Through the Keyhole Christmas Special. David Frost and Lloyd Grossman.
Hmmm, I wonder whose house they'll be in for this.'

'You can't be fucking serious.'

'It's good. I watch it sometimes in the afternoons.'

'Who's that there? Oh fuck, no. Kris Fucking Akabusi. Please turn it
off. Please Albert. I cannot stand that cunt. Please.' The monkey
grabbed hold of Albert's arm and clung to him, as if for support.

'I like him. He's funny.' Albert smiled, snuggling further into his
seat and pushing the monkey away.

'Oh for fucks sake.' The monkey let go and moved to sit on the edge of
the sofa with its hands over its eyes, peeking through the gaps of its
fingers. 'He's going to laugh in a minute. I swear to God that I'll go
insane if he starts laughing. Oh fuck no, he's laughing! What the
fucking hell is he laughing at? Nothing remotely funny happened! What a
twat! Stop fucking laughing you cunt!' The monkey began screeching at
the television, clawing the air with its hands.

'Calm down', said Albert, 'and try to keep the noise down for goodness
sake. The neighbours will think there's something wrong and phone the
police.' The monkey continued its tirade,

'There is something wrong. There's something terribly fucking wrong
with the world when things get so desperate that we're forced to watch
Through the Fucking Keyhole on Christmas bloody Day.'

Albert put a finger to his lips. 'Just sit and be quiet for a minute
will you. I'm trying to work out whose house it is. Whoever it is has
got their own gym.' The monkey clasped its head in its hands in
desperation, squeezing against its ears.

'It's fucking obvious whose house it is.'

'No it's not. It could be anyone's. Well, anyone who's famous that is.'
Albert brushed a crumb from his leg and checked his cup to see if there
was any tea left.

'The people on here aren't even fucking famous! They're either retired
and past-it sports stars of yesteryear or fucking minor celebrities who
are being grossly overpaid for doing things that a half-trained fucking
rat could do. Half the people you've never even heard of.' The monkey
lit another cigarette. 'So it's either fucking obvious and a piece of
piss to guess or it's fucking impossible because it's some duffed up
old slag that you've never even heard of who writes romantic fiction
while her husband gives the nanny one in the kitchen.'

The monkey sat back on the sofa and leaned towards Albert, its eyes
half closed in a smug and triumphant fashion. 'Face it Albert, this is
a pile of shit. It's hardly even a programme, more a mish mash of
talentless tarts and queers locked in a room together to see what they
can come up with.'

Albert turned his attention back towards the television. 'Ah, look, it
was that one from Gladiators. Lightning, I think she is. Ha, yes.' He
grinned to himself.

The monkey looked at him sourly. 'Did you really not know it was her?'
Albert returned the stare defensively

'I couldn't watch it properly because you were yapping away in my ear.
If you'd be quiet for just a minute, like I asked you to be, the
perhaps I could watch the television in peace and work out what's going
on and whose house it is.'

'But it was fucking obvious. I wasn't even watching it and I knew! The
gym! The make up! The fucking hair dye! The clothes with the lightning
symbols! The statue of the fucking gladiator in the hallway. For fucks
sake, how much do you need?' The monkey shook its head and threw Albert
a look of disgust, then looked towards the television. 'Oh Christ, he's
laughing again. AKABUSI!! WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP LAUGHING!!' Albert
turned the volume up slightly, watching the number of green bars
increase until the rising laughter stopped. The monkeys wailing ceasing
soon after.

'You could always make a cup of tea if the television is annoying you.'
Albert turned the volume up again, accentuating what was now the harsh
whine of Lloyd Grossman's voice.

'Shut up. And turn that fucking thing down.' The monkey sat back in its
seat and pretended to flick through the TV guide absent-mindedly,
trying to ignore Albert.

'You may as well, seeing as you'll only moan and whinge if you stay
here.'
The monkey started talking at the television again. 'Lloyd Grossman.
Shite name, shite voice. I bet that's a fake voice, put on for the
cameras. God only knows why though.'

Albert nodded. 'I've got to agree with you there, I must admit. It does
sound a bit stupid.' He lowered the volume on the television.

'A bit stupid? Don't get me started.' There was silence for a few
moments as Albert waited for the monkey to produce another diatribe.
The monkey sat, lost in thought, staring at the television.

'Oh look, it's Bobby Davro. I haven't seen him for years. I wonder what
he's doing now.' Albert looked at the monkey, which broke out of its
daydream with a start

'More shit like this I expect. More fucking dross from the past coming
to haunt us.' The monkey rubbed its eyes in an attempt to regain
concentration. 'Bobby Davro. Bobby Fucking Davro. What was he anyway? A
comedian? Pah! He wasn't very fucking funny, was he? He's not laughing
so much now anyway. He tried his luck with game shows, didn't he?
Fucking washout. I'm sure he tried acting as well. He was in The Bill
or some bollocks like that. Some shitty melodramatic nonsense. I wonder
what he puts down as his occupation? If he was honest he'd have to
write 'television journeyman' or 'shitty veteran TV performer'.
Comedian my fucking arse.'

Albert sighed and checked his watch; he looked up in shock as a bauble
fell from the tree. 'There goes another one.'

'That's cheap decorations for you.' The monkey picked up the television
guide, scanning the pages for anything of interest.

'ET is on in fifteen minutes I think,' said Albert, 'that might be
worth a watch.' He checked his watch.

The monkey tutted, not even looking up. 'Pile of shite that film. Pure
propaganda designed to blind the masses to the realities of life forms
from beyond this planet.'

'It's a children's film. Not any kind of attempt to subvert or
pervert.' Albert sighed, rubbing his fingertips against his
temples.

'You soft bastard. Do you just sit there all day watching the pretty
pictures move on the television or do you ever stop to think about what
it might represent?' The monkey started rolling a ball of blu-tack
between its tiny hands.

'It's a children's film.'

'No it's not, you fucking fool. Do you really think aliens will be cute
and helpful? That they'll want to be buddies with us all? Do you think
that they're going to bother coming all of that way just to say 'hello'
and 'cheery-fucking-bye'? No. They'll try to kill us all and then take
control of the planet. There'll be no fucking flying bikes for us, I
can tell you.' The monkey looked around irritably, searching the small
living room with its black eyes.

'Have you hidden my bag again?' The monkey glared at Albert.

'No. And I never hid it in the first place.'

'Where is it then?'

'Where you left it, I should think.' Albert decided not to move and
help the monkey search, seeing that it was in such foul humour

'Unless you hid it. I bet you've put it somewhere

'I haven't hidden your bag,' replied Albert, 'where did you have it
last?'

'In here.'

'When?' The monkey sighed heavily, bored with the inane
questions.

'Yesterday evening. After I came back from the library I left my bag in
here and then I went up to . . .'

'You went out yesterday? Albert interjected.

'I went to the library to get some books. They telephoned to say they
had what I wanted.'

'So you went out then?' Albert sat forward so that he could see the
monkey properly.

'Of course I bloody well did. The library doesn't come to me does
it?'

'And you didn't think to do any shopping or anything?'

'I didn't pass any shops. I went around the back way.

'I'm sure that there are loads of shops around McArthur Street. There's
Owens', Singh's, the Offy . . .' Albert started counting on his
fingers.

'Where are they then?'

'The same road that the library is on.'

'Oh? Is that McArthur Street? You know I'm not good with names and
places.' The monkey feigned surprise. 'And you say that there's shops
there? I'm pretty certain that I didn't pass any. Although, now that
you mention it, I think that I may have passed something that might
have been a shop of some description but I'm not at all sure that it
was a grocers. You know that I don't take much notice when I'm outside.
I look at the ground in case anyone tries to pick on me. I tend to miss
things.'

'You couldn't even have bought some milk then?' Albert kept his voice
at a low tone, not wanting to show the monkey his anger.

'I didn't take my wallet with me. I had no money on me, because I
haven't got any pockets.' The monkey attempted to grin but it came out
more as a leer.

'How did you get books out of the library without your card? Surely
that would have been in your wallet?' It was Albert's turn to stare
accusingly. The monkey wriggled in his seat, refusing to look Albert in
the eye.

'The lovely woman at the counter recognised me, she said that she had
noticed me before. Don't look at me like that . . . I'm telling the
truth. How dare you accuse me of lying?' The monkey jumped up
dramatically in its seat and adorned the look of a grieved
Shakespearean lover.

'Because you tell me lies all of the time.'

'Like when?'

'Like now. You could easily have picked up some milk on your little
journey to the library but you chose not to. I always do everything
around here. You haven't even paid any rent for the last three months;
you keep on dodging the issue and saying that you'll sort it out. But
I've not seen a penny of it have I?'

'Things are a little bit tight at the moment. I have my debts to pay.'
The monkey hugged itself in self-pity again.

'I won't even ask.'

'I'm not lying. Oh, you have no idea what it's like to be me do you?
Being a monkey in the human world is not as easy as it looks. People
look down on me and treat me like rubbish, as if I was some shit that
they've found on the bottom of their shoe. When I go to shops they look
at me as though I'm a second-class customer, rather than an individual
with morals and beliefs. They see my furry body and laugh at me; they
laugh at the way I look. They can't see through the fur, they miss the
real me inside.' Albert looked to the ceiling. The monkey continued.
'They talk about equality in this country. Pah! What they see as
equality is a fucking sham. There'll never be equality until all animal
types live in complete harmony and work as a unit, instead of you
fucking humans thinking that you know what we want. Do you think that
cows want to have their nipples attached to a fucking great hunk of
machinery every morning? No, they'd much rather be left to have a nice
lie in. It's the fucking bastard farmers that make them do it. And why?
For money, that's why. Money, money, money.' The monkey grabbed another
tissue and wiped its nose furiously. 'We are all slaves to
humanity.'

'Yes, well,' Albert started, 'I think I need a cup of tea after all
that. And seeing as you've not done anything all day long I think you
should make it. Go on. The exercise will do you the world of good.
It'll help clear the cold you've got there.'

'Do you ever listen to anything I say? I'm trying to explain to you how
I fucking feel in this world and the only thing you can think about is
a cup of fucking tea.' The monkey began ripping the tissue in anger.
'You think that the world will be saved with a cup of tea? The only way
that humanity will be redeemed is through the realisation that all
animals are equal. You arrogant twats think that you own everything.
What greater right have you got to this house than me?'

'I bought it. I've got a mortgage. The ownership papers have got my
name on.'

'Papers. Fucking worthless papers.' The monkey sneered at Albert.

'Just be quiet for a few minutes. I've heard it all before and I'm
tired of hearing it. All I want to do is relax and watch a bit of
telly.' Albert leaned back in his seat, his eyes glued to the
television in a pretence of watching. The monkey began playing with the
tissue, ripping little pieces off and flicking them to the floor.

'Please don't do that.' Albert said gently. 'You're doing it on purpose
to make a mess, and then it'll be left for me to clean up.'

'Well that's your own fault, isn't it?' The monkey continued shredding
the tissue.
Albert tutted and rolled his eyes. 'How can it be my fault that you
never clean up the mess that you deliberately make?'

The monkey moved forward, almost squatting on the sofa, pointing at
Albert 'That fucking vacuum cleaner you bought. Fucking great lump of a
thing. If it was a bit more bloody lightweight then I might be able to
use it but, no, you had to get the cheapest one. Tight-arsed bastard
that you are. It's bigger than me for Christ's sake. How the fuck am I
meant to push that heap of shit about?'

'Well if you didn't spend all your money on newspapers and cigarettes
then maybe you'd be able to afford a vacuum for yourself.'

'What the hell are you talking about? What kind of fuckwit needs two
hoovers?' The monkey stared at the ceiling. 'Jesus Christ, the fucking
mentality of some people.'

'That's the problem isn't it? You expect me to pay for everything
around here. When was the last time you bought tea bags? Shampoo? Light
bulbs?' Albert waited for an answer but none was forthcoming. 'No, you
haven't, have you? But you'll always steal mine, you'll never buy any
yourself.'

'I would if I could get to the shop but you know I don't like going
outside. It's not good for me. All those bastards stopping to stroke me
and fiddle with me. Those fucking brats down the street, trying to get
me in that fucking pram and wheel me around like some kind of fucking
freak. Every time I go out to the shops some twat grabs hold of me and
squeezes me or makes me dance for them. It's fucking humiliating.' The
monkey shuddered and hugged itself. 'Urgh, it makes me feel dirty just
thinking about it.'

'You could give me money to go to the shops for you. At least you'd be
paying your own way.'

'I've tried to ask you but you're so fucking lazy.'

Albert started in indignation. 'What are you talking about? It's me who
keeps this place in condition. I went out shopping yesterday. Who do
you think bought the newspapers and the food? You could have asked me
to get some things for you or given me some money towards food. But,
no, you want me to do everything for you don't you?' Albert brushed the
sweat from his brow; the monkey always managed to get him hot under the
collar, no matter how hard he tried to remain calm.

'I was in bed.' The monkey plucked a fresh tissue from the bow by his
side.

'And that's another thing, you're always hidden upstairs in your room
recently. What are you doing up there?'

'I've got a cold. I'm ill. I've been in my bed trying to sleep it off.
I only got out of it today because it's Christmas day and I didn't want
you to be all alone. Well, if this is all the thanks I get then I might
just go upstairs and get into bed.' It snatched the box of tissues from
the sofa and cradled them in its arms. 'What a fucking waste of a day,'
it grumbled to itself but making sure that Albert could hear, 'a day
that could have been spent trying to get back to full health.'

'Now calm down. Don't go just yet.' Albert put his arm on the monkey's
shoulder. 'I'm sorry that I'm suspicious of you at times but you have
to see it from my perspective. You're always locked away up there and
you never tell me what you're doing. You never show me any of the books
that you get out of the library or let me see what you're doing with
the paints that were delivered.'

'You could show a little faith in me.' The monkey looked hurt.

'I think that I already have,' started Albert, 'I let you have a lock
on your door, didn't I? That shows that I trust you if nothing else.
I'd just like to know what it is that you're up to.'

'It's a secret.' The smug grin returned to the monkey's face. 'It's a
surprise.'

'When will you let me see what you're doing?'

'When it's finished. It wouldn't be a secret if I showed you now, would
it?'

'Is it for me?' A look of hope flashed across Albert's face. The monkey
tapped its nose and smiled.

'You'll have to wait and see. Now, a cup of tea would be nice.'

Albert sighed heavily but managed a smile as well. 'Oh all right then.
I suppose it'll have to be me.' He rose heavily from the sofa and found
his feet, tossing the remote control onto the seat. 'Find something
interesting to watch while I'm away.'

'Naturally.' The monkey smiled. 'Oh, Albert?'

He stopped and turned to the monkey. 'Yes?'

'Strong, two sugars and with a fair bit of milk. Oh, and be sure to
bring those chocolate biscuits in with you.'