Sunky would like to make it clear that the Munky has got fcuk all to do with him. "To be quite frank I wish I'd never adopted the shit."
- Munky is also available here...
This week Munky is tipping...
- Click here to play...
Ms. Bumton (Munky’s legal advisor) says - Dear Unkle Munky, this is possibly the worst musical tip that you have ever given.
Unkle Munky says - Dear Ms. Bumton, surely this is a great endorsement? After all, what do you know about music? You were in the fcukin’ Spice Girls! Please keep your cute button nose out of my musical pickings and get on with some pretend stapling!
Lesley from Poole asks - Dear Unkle Munky, did you receive my creepy letter marked with various questionable body fluids?
Unkle Munky says - Dear Lesley, I did indeed receive said mail. I would have replied far earlier had I not been in fruit pastille negotiations with my legal advisor, Ms. Bumton. To be quite frank, I think four green pastilles for a single black one is a little greedy. With regards to your query: As Britain’s leading agony primate I cannot be seen to condone stalking of any kind. I can only suggest, on this occasion, that you invest in a professional pair of training shoes and get yourself fit. The object of your desire might be more open to your advances if she knows that you share a common interest. Alternatively, you might wish to stalk someone who isn’t a marathon runner. I hope this helps. And now, if you do not mind, I have wine gum negotiations to enter. Good day!
John from Wigan asks - Dear Unkle Munky, are employers allowed to discriminate on grounds of colour blindness?
Unkle Munky says - Dear John, any form of discrimination is wrong and should not be tolerated. I will not rest until I have personally seen you reinstated as chief wire cutter of the ‘Wigan Bomb Disposal Unit.’
Ms. Bumton (Munky’s general assistant) adds - Oh fer Pete’s sake!
Denise from Colechester asks - Dear Unkle Munky, is it normal for the amateur violinist to suffer with agonising back pains?
Unkle Munky says - Dear Denise, I have studied your recent concert footage and have come to the conclusion that your parents may have inadvertently bought you a cello. I would recommend, on this occasion, that you soak said instrument in a bathtub until shrinkage occurs. Alternatively, you might wish to surf the internet for illegal supplies of growth hormone. I hope this helps. And now, if you do not mind, I have endorsements to fabricate. Good day!
Amy Winehouse Fact File.
Dorothy from Fullham asks - Dear Unkle Munky, I have an Amy Winehouse exam on Wednesday and was wondering if you had any information regarding the starlet’s formative years?
Unkle Munky says - Dear Dorothy, I have surveyed my extensive pop archives and can happilly share the following fascinating intelligence with regards to said starlet. Good luck with the exam!
Amy Winehouse was born to gravy pioneering parents Percy and Pat on October 3rd 1987. Her formative years were spent studying the aforementioned meat enhancing product. By the time she left school a career with ‘Ahhhh… Bisto’ was beckoning. “She had the world at her feet,” said Amy’s mother recently in an interview for ‘It’s All Gravy’ magazine. “Bisto were very keen to snap her up, and even the market leaders, OXO, were showing a keen interest”. Asked if her daughter’s current chart success was not of some consolation, Mrs. Winehouse said, “Oh daubing yourself in tattoos and singing about rehab is all well and good, but I’m thinking long term. She will regret the day she walked off the Bisto gravy granule inspection line and no mistake. You mark my words”. Amy is currently enjoying great chart success with her CD - ‘Back to Black’ and, according to our sources, has no intention of ever returning to the world of gravy granule production.
“They tried to make me go to Bisto, but I said, no, no, no!”
Westlife Story continues...
Lisa from East Renfrewshire asks - Dear Unkle Munky, the sudden loss of my libido has hit my promiscuous boyfriend very hard. His once cheery demeanour is now one of sadness and depression. I am at my wits end and no mistake. What can I do?
Unkle Munky says - Dear Lisa, a lack of sexual activity can undermine the strongest of relationships. It is imperative that you locate your lost libido as soon as possible. I would recommend that the exploration concentrate on areas previously assumed unreachable. Tight warm cracks are a magnet for stray objects and no mistake. All manner of things can slip between the soft, plump cushions of a… well worn sofa. It does not take a huge leap of imagination, therefore, to presume that said libido could have taken a similar journey. Nice tits.
Ref. Nice tits.
Dear Unkle Munky, I must raise issue with the way in which you dealt with the previous query! Our aim, may I remind you, is to offer friendly and impartial advice. Lisa from East Renfrewshire wrote to you with a serious problem concerning the sudden loss of her sex drive. Your response was to treat her ailment as if it were merely an object that had been mislaid! You are a disgrace and no mistake!
P.S. Her tits are obviously fake.
Unkle Munky says - Dear Ms. Bumton, your impromptu memo is of little consequence. Failing to suggest a single alternative location with regards to Lisa’s lost libido has only served to highlight your apparent ignorance.
P.S. Fake or not, I would love to have a go on them. Her boyfriend must be distraught about the missing libido.
Ms. Bumton adds - I give up!
Frank from Hereford asks - Dear Unkle Munky, I am very passionate about sandpaper and was wondering if there might be any fan clubs in my local area?
Unkle Munky says - Dear Frank, sadly I am unable to locate any sandpaper fan clubs in the Hereford area. You might be interested to note, however, that the aforementioned city is home to one of the UK’s biggest and most successful wallpaper fan clubs.
Frank replies - A fan club devoted to wallpaper? What a ridiculous notion! I shall take my sandpaper query to Uncle Badger, he knows far more about abrasive appreciation societies than you do. Good day!
The Final Word.
This week’s final word goes to Britain’s youngest practising monk, Mr. John Bradbury.
Unkle Munky says - Dear Ms. Bumton, you have neglected to add the text for this week’s ‘Final Word’ feature.
Ms. Bumton replies - Dear Unkle Munky, Mr. Bradbury was unable to offer us any words of wisdom. As a practising monk he is bound by monky law and is currently adhering to a ten year vow of silence.
Unkle Munky adds - Oh fer fuck’s sake! This feature is going nowhere and no mistake.