ELEPHANT SOUP AND THE PRICE OF CHEAP NOODLES

The jungle was too over crowded these days to get lost anywhere in it. Christ, there were still parts of a Woman’s vagina that had still to be discovered, so what chance had Malcolm got of getting hung by his short and curlies in the workings of an inner city council estate?

Rumours in these parts were as vicious as dogs, and if Malcolm wanted out then he was going to have to bum a lift. If that didn’t work then he was going to have to shag a prostitute. Either way, things were going to get very nasty very quickly.

Blood wasn’t just confined to the dance floor, and neither was reggae, thanks to the Bee Gees, that is. They had a hand in everything from Elephant soup to the price of cheap noodles, although they were smart enough to keep their talent away from singing. Malcolm, on the other hand had a tremendous voice, which he often loaned out for birthdays and weddings. And as far as pilgrimages go this one was apple to the core.

Also, mixing business with pleasure was something Malcolm knew very little about. But he was eager to learn and that went a long way for a kid who was going nowhere.

Summertime made Malcolm nauseous, and anything over 24 degrees Fahrenheit and Malcolm had to cool his head inside a refrigerator. That’s where he met and fell in love with a tossed salad. Unfortunately for Malcolm the love affair was over before it could begin, as Malcolm’s father, desperate to find a cure for ‘Fat Bastardness’ devoured his love along with a quarter of boiled ham.

Seeking revenge, Malcolm hastily married a four pint bottle of full fat milk but two week into that relationship and things suddenly soured.

Malcolm was last seen attempting to walk the full length of the English Channel whilst reciting the entire works of Andy Kaufman in a French accent. “Tannk you veddy much!” was the last words Malcolm ever spoke before disappearing beneath the waves.

God bless, Malcolm.

You can do it.

THE END

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