Christmas tree

The manager of the safari camp was terribly disappointed when the Australian Jesus declined his offer of a free holiday in the Congo. I heard the fellow make his excuses on the speakerphone in the manager’s office:

“Screw you, mate!” he snapped. “I’ve cut my hair and shaved my beard so that bastards like you will leave me alone!”

I naturally did what I could to console the manager, who looked rather crestfallen after this ungrateful outburst.

“I don’t think the guests would have liked him,” I said. “Jesus was a baby at Christmas, so it wouldn’t have suited the nativity theme. Why not get your wife to play Mary instead? She’s always telling me how much she misses being a virgin.”

“I’ve got a better idea: why don’t you play King Herod?” retorted the manager. “He obviously modelled himself on a gorilla.”

“You’re only saying that because he had hair growing out of nostrils” I replied. “This is not, in fact, a gorilla trait. Look at my nose.”

It goes without saying that we gorillas have nothing in common with King Herod, a man so evil that he died of a disease called Herod’s Evil. It is said that he suffered an agonising death, with maggots breeding in his todger. Serves him right for being such a blackguard, I suppose.

I’ve always liked the nativity story, mainly because of the prominent role played by animals. There were cows and goats in the stable, sheep in the pastures outside, and three wise apes to provide post-natal care. The species of each ape can be deduced from the gifts they brought. The bearer of gold must have been a vulgar orang-utan who thought bling was a suitable present for a baby. Myrrh was used as an aphrodisiac by the ancients, which suggests the involvement of a randy chimp. And a thoughtful gorilla must have brought the frankincense, which being an air-freshener would have been sorely needed in the stable.

The person I feel sorry for is Joseph, who got a pretty raw deal when you consider the facts:

1. Marries a virgin but isn’t allowed to have sex with her.

2. Gets cuckolded by God, whose child he is forced to bring up.

3. Busts his hump making tables and chairs while his adopted son plays hooky doing miracles and stuff.

On the plus side, he doesn’t get crucified and acquires a nifty collection of oil lamps.

This being the season of goodwill, I should end by offering words of heartfelt sympathy to the broken-hearted. One who might appreciate them is the Indian man now living in a tree after catching his wife fornicating with a local lover-boy. He won’t come down until his wife apologises, which she has stubbornly refused to do.

“If this is how humans behave, I’m going to live like a monkey,” he told the police when they asked him what he was up to.

I feel your pain, my friend. If you wish to continue your simian pilgrimage in the Congo, I’ll reserve a sturdy tree for you.

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Female ingenuity

The manager of the safari camp has been telling me about a woman who avoided going to her high-school reunion by sending an impostor in her stead.

“Pretty clever eh, GB!” he said. “I bet your females wouldn’t have thought of a trick like that!”

“You’d be surprised,” I remarked. “Female gorillas can be incredibly devious in pursuit of their aims. Not that they’d worry about skipping a high-school reunion, of course. Anyone who tried to pressure them into attending such an event would simply be told to piss off.”

On reviewing the news report, I am forced to admit that this woman, Andrea Wachner, is a cunning wench. The impersonator she hired was a professional stripper well-versed in performing before strangers. Her looks were also carefully chosen – essentially a cuter version Miss Wachner with a smaller nose and a bigger bust. After getting her stooges to install webcams at the venue, Miss Wachner equipped the impostor with an earpiece to receive her instructions. The deception worked perfectly until one of her former classmates sidled up to the stripper near the end of the party.

“You’re not Andrea, your eyes are different!” he said staring intently at her breasts.

The hoax almost succeeded, though, and the idea of using a double to fob people off was brilliant. It’s a concept that might lead to a social revolution comparable to that of the birth-control pill. The busy career woman, juggling work and family responsibilities, could hire multiple look-alikes for different tasks – one to attend office parties, one to drive the kids to school, one to give her husband a treat on his birthday, and so on. A rich femme fatale could lead the life of a Bond villain, lying on a couch in her boudoir while watching her doppelgangers carry out her nefarious plans. The ones that make a hash of it would be invited back to HQ for a paddle with the sharks in the aquarium.

Yet contrasting such womanly wiles with the behaviour of female apes is obviously comparing apples with pears. The apettes may not hire strippers to impersonate them, but they possess jungle instincts that the modern woman lacks. Take the recent case of Miss Karta, a sharp-witted orang-utan who escaped from her zoo enclosure by building a ladder and short-circuiting an electric fence. When surrounded by a posse of her captors, she jumped back into her enclosure before they could fire their tranquiliser darts. Are there women who can make ladders and short-circuit electric fences without being unnaturally butch? Not that I’ve seen.

I think it’s fair to say that women and female apes have much to learn from each other. Women may have guile and subtlety, but their hairy sisters could teach them a range of practical skills that would serve them well in life, such as tree-climbing. A woman who knows how to straddle up and down a tree trunk has an exciting feral quality that complements her softer virtues. Perhaps I should hold a jungle symposium for female primates of all species to exchange ideas.

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