I’m back in the Congo after a somewhat disturbing flight home. I don’t mean, by this, that there were any apprehensions of an aeronautic complexion. No aircraft I’ve ever flown in has dared to misbehave when I was on board. Before the plane took off, I had my customary chat with the captain:
“Rest assured that we gorillas have very sensitive ears,” I said. “I can hear what’s going on in the cockpit from first class, and will be ready to assist if anything untoward happens. I won’t hesitate to pin down your co-pilot if he has a fit or explodes in a mutinous rage. Never forget what happened to Captain Bligh!”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” replied the captain with a nervous grin. “Why not just put on the headphones and enjoy the in-flight entertainment. You get a great choice of films in first class.”
“Maybe I’ll watch the screen without wearing headphones,” I mused. “I’m a fairly good lip-reader as it happens.”
Now, some of you might have guessed that I couldn’t really hear inside the cockpit. I told the captain this white lie to discourage him from playing hookey while the plane was on autopilot. Most aviation accidents are caused by “human error”, which is a polite way of saying that the captain and first officer were looking at girlie magazines or playing tiddlywinks when the warning lights began to flash. That sort of arsing about is not acceptable when I am a passenger.
Anyway, the captain was right about the great choice of movies in first class. As I rarely read film reviews, I asked the stewardess for her recommendation.
“How about The Reader?” she said. “Kate Winslet got an Oscar in that one.”
“Kate Winslet is my favourite actress!” I exclaimed. “A hundred thanks for your excellent suggestion!”
Long-standing readers of this blog will remember the eulogies I have penned for Miss Winslet. As well as being an accomplished thespian, her body is of a shape that we gorillas can appreciate (in a wholly non-sexual way). Curvaceous hips; luscious thighs; breasts that look as if they’re ready for milking. The human female doesn’t get better than that.
So I settled down to watch the film and was pleased to see Kate rolling around naked in the early scenes, albeit partially obscured by the annoying whelp who was trying to mate with her. When I eventually got a good view of Kate’s body in its entirely, I bit my lip in disappointment. The succulence of her flesh was much diminished, obviously because of some accursed diet she’d been following.
On the way home from the airport, the manager of the safari camp attempted to explain this anomaly:
“She was playing a war criminal, so her normal full figure wouldn’t have worked,” he said. “Evil women are supposed to look bony-arsed.”
“Fiddlesticks!” I exclaimed. “Fans of Kate have certain expectations of a movie in which she stars. If they wanted a bony-arsed woman, they should have given the part to Gwyneth Paltrow!”
The manager sucked his teeth and nodded.
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