Hopping mad

I do hope the Czech authorities are lenient with Benji the kangaroo, who ran amok in Prague, stealing ladies’ knickers as he hopped from garden to garden. A kangaroo doesn’t do such things out of malice or depravity, and he must have learned the behaviour from a human role model. Benji’s owner was quick to deny culpability: 

“He certainly didn’t pick up the habit from me,” said 35-year-old Petr Hlabovic defensively. 

I hope they’ll search Hlabovic’s house for incriminating evidence before accepting his denial. I’ve often heard rumours of knicker-collecting men, who display their stolen artefacts as trophies to their beer-guzzling buddies. The home of such a brigand would be a highly corrupting environment for a kangaroo.

A more innocent explanation is that Benji was influenced by what he saw on TV. Kangaroos are impressionable creatures, and I believe that re-runs of The Benny Hill show are popular in the Czech Republic. Who could blame Benji for mimicking the antics of a pie-faced buffoon who gets cheap laughs by ogling busty women? He simply wouldn’t have known any better. 

The kindest thing to do with Benji now would be to send him back to his native land. Australians are a patriotic bunch, and have a notably relaxed attitude to knicker-theft and other larrikin pranks. I would expect them to welcome Benji home as a returning hero and present him with a harem of females for his (and their) amusement. Bush nookie is a popular pastime in that part of the world. 

One émigré animal who certainly shouldn’t be repatriated is Nico the gorilla, who petulantly tossed away the flowers he was given on his 50th birthday, and greedily wolfed down the fruit cake he later received. A gorilla that spoiled wouldn’t last five minutes in Africa. If I ever dared to pour scorn on a gift from my females I’d be walking with a limp for the next three months. 

It has to be said that humans are not always astute in their choice of presents. Back in my circus days, I remember getting a silk necktie for my birthday from the female acrobats. 

“I’m sure I shall find an excellent use for it,” I said to the girls. 

“You’re supposed to wear it around your neck,” they explained. 

“Yes, I believe that’s what a man would do with it,” I replied. “We gorillas are not so conventional in our use of ornamental textiles.” 

I initially considered wearing around my chest as a nipple protector, but soon realised that such an application would be pointless. A gorilla’s nipples are pretty secure at the worst of times, and I’ve not met the human who would dare to pinch them without prior consent. 

I eventually settled on using it as a line to hang pot plants on. This was a great success, allowing me to cultivate an impressive range of herbs and medicinal narcotics. As we say in the jungle: if it can’t be used in horticulture, you may as well give it to the crocodiles. 

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