Boiler and Angry Chimp

Angry Chimp shivers, but not this time through anger, although he is angry.

No, he shivers because he is used to a warmer climate, a tropical climate, somewhere in the region of 25°C, or, as we know it in our small home, top of the thermostat.

The boiler has died and we huddle together for warmth as we wait for the chap to come fix it.

For it will be a chap.

Unless it is a woman, but then I think Wesley is the name of a chap.

Just not much of one.

Not like Rowdy, Chuck, or Timothy.

It’s been a couple of days now, without hot water or hot radiators, a couple of days with the temperature dropping to –2°C or –3°C or –50°C.

“Get a fucking grip,” Angry Chimp barks at me. “Christ sake, you are such a spineless wimp”.

It is true for it is only relatively recently that I have lived in a house with radiators.

Before they were storage heaters, which I think are still radiators, but … never as good.

And when I was paid to do nothing all day, what was that called again?

“Being a student?” Angry Chimp suggests.

Yes, when I was for a brief couple of times a student we had no heat, or food. Well we had food, just not nice food like salad, and apples and Galaxy bars.

“What’s happened to you man? When did you become so lame?” Angry Chimp says before ‘clipping me round the ear ’ole’, like he’s the local bobby on the beat and I’m just some cockney scamp or barra boy...


Oh Winona, you can keep me warm.

“My parents were cockneys,” I tell Angry Chimp.

“I KNOW,” he replies, “You never bleedin’ stop going on about it! Every bloody time we watch something on telly about the bloody capital you feel the need to tell me AGAIN! And thing is this…” Angry Chimp says.

“What is the thing?” I ask.

Angry Chimp launches a mug filled with hot coffee at me, I duck just in time, and it smashes on the wall behind me. Harmlessly.

Harmlessly for me that is, not so harmless for the innocent yukka it has just killed.

“Sod it, even my bloody aim is off today” Angry Chimp says and slumps down in his wrapped around duvet, looking depressed.

I suddenly, and inexplicably feel sorry for him, for he may be a simian filled with pathological rage, typical directed at me, but he is my fuming monkey, and no one else’s.

“Don’t worry Angry Chimp,” I say, putting an arm around his shaking shoulder, “The man will be here soon to give us heat back, then you’ll feel better.”

“I know” Angry Chimp says and he puts his paw on my hand.

And then he squeezes, quite hard.

“It’s far too cold to be really upset at you for this”; he says “But as soon as the heat comes back on, oh boy, watch out.”

I shiver, but it is not because of the cold.