A Post About Monkeys

I like monkeys. Probably more than humans to be honest; they don’t bump into you on footpaths and turn off roundabouts without indicating. Nor do they make the comments section on a Youtube video about baking cakes a religious debate, or something about Hitler. I don’t know anybody who isn’t a fan of our swingy biological cousins, and this post is a celebration of all things funny-nosed and shiny-red-bottomed.

Of course, our primal roots make monkeys all the more endearing as they’re just hairier, grin-ier humans who are satisfied with a diet of bananas and assorted vegetables. Ever heard a gorilla ask for a cheeseburger, large fries and a coke? No, because they’re happy-go-lucky fellas who appreciate the simpler things in life. Although maybe there’s that one monkey in the zoo, the ‘monkey who knows how to get things’ like Red in The Shawshank Redemption, who smuggles in the occasional Dominos pizza. Who knows what happens behind closed monkey doors.

We envy their care-free lifestyle, lazing in the sun, throwing dung at zoo-goers and chasing each other through the trees like a primary school game of bulldog. A stress-free world, where sniffing each other’s backsides is their equivalent of making ends meet. I doubt that the same can be said vice versa. I doubt that there are any monkeys who wish that they could suffer the daily struggle of that guy who smells funny sitting next to you on the commute in, or who want to work in an office 40 hours a week and hear the excruciating noise that is Justin Bieber on the way home. Indeed, I believe that monkeys would have a much better music taste than 15 year-old girls.

As affectionate and envious as we may be, we’re not really that nice to our ape friends. Firstly, we make them do a ridiculous challenge in order to get their food. Take Barry, for example. He’s just woken up on Sunday morning after going out on the lash the night before and he smells freshly picked bananas. He rises, bedraggled and hungover, only to discover that they’ve been hidden inside a hole in a log hanging from a 20ft tree by that tw*t of a zookeeper. I think we can all understand Barry’s pain, here. Don’t complain when you get Barry’s poo flung in your face, zookeeper.

Secondly, they (chimpanzees, usually) are often the subjects of our dangerous scientific experiments as they’re the closest species, biologically, to humans and we think that the death of a chimp is less tragic than that of a human (I can’t disagree with that and neither can you, cruel as it may seem). Look at Albert II – the first monkey in space – he died of suffocation poor lad!

Anyway, enough on that. Let us thank our ancient relatives for making our lives that little bit better, by getting Barry some breakfast in bed and admiring a snap of this particularly handsome fellow.

Grinning Chimpanzee

Why a post about monkeys? Why not, I ask?!


One thought on “A Post About Monkeys

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