Happiness and Angry Chimp

The Guide: A liberal media agenda at its finest.

Angry Chimp sits with a smile on his face.

I say it again because I don’t believe it.

Angry Chimp sits with a smile on his face.

It’s no good. Like John Homes fucking Dakota Fanning, it just doesn’t fit.

And it’s not the first time this month Angry Chimp has smiled, it’s happened an awful lot and I don’t know what to do about it.

Angry Chimp doesn’t complain when I burn his tea. Angry Chimp doesn’t rage when z-grade celebrities pretend to be caring when it’s red nose day, he just looks on with a grin.

Angry Chimp doesn’t hit me and bite me and scratch me and generally abuse me when I say I think Jamie Oliver is an okay sort and that he’d doing a lot of good for the kids.

No. Angry Chimp just nods and says, “Yes, I suppose you’re right”.

In fact, I fear that I may be losing Angry Chimp and he is becoming Passive Chimp or worse, Content Chimp.

How has this happened? I regulate his meat intake with the care of a Mogwai farmer but yet the fire is almost extinguished.

I look to his writing and am shocked that his output has slowed considerably, once it was a couple of rants a day, now Angry Chimp can barely manage a rant a week.

“What’s going on?”, I cry out in confusion.

“Nothing,” Angry Chimp says, “I’m fine”.

Nothing??

I’m fine???

“Are you sick Angry Chimp?”, I ask.

“No, I’m fine” He replies as calmly as a husband lying about his extra marital activities.

“I’m okay”.

“Angry Chimp” I say trying to kick start the violence, “That band G4 are great musicians aren’t they?”

“Hmm”. Angry Chimp says, “They’re a nice bunch of lads”.

And with that I know it’s over.

Angry Chimp is dead.

And as always a woman is to blame.

A woman is to blame for making him happy and stifling his rage fuelled creativity.

“What was that you just said?” Angry Chimp growls with a spark.

I’ve nothing to lose I think, “You’ve gone soft and I reckon it’s ‘cause you’ve got yourself a bird” I say with an arrogant swagger.

“What!?!” Angry Chimp says. “What did you just say?”

I attempt to reply but before I can get even the first syllable out Angry Chimp has me by the throat, pushing me against the wall. He leans in close now and I can smell the croissant I made him for breakfast on his breath.

“If you ever, ever speak to me like that again,” he barks, “I will tear your skin off”.

He holds his glare for a moment and adds, “Understand?”.

I nod to indicate that I do. And he lets me go.

He sits back down in his chair and continues reading the Guardian guide with a sarcastic grin.

“And by the way”, Angry Chimps says, “Go and rustle something nice up for tea, Rachel will be round in a bit.”

I’m thinking it’s good to have him back when I’m struck square in the face by the coffee table.

“Nathan Barley, what a load of self satisfied toss” says Angry Chimp.