Week of 24/06/2007 - 1:00am to 01/07/2007 - 12:59am

There once lived a man named Philip. Now young Philip was quite the cheeky individual - in fact his actions rarely registered at less than 2.5 on the cheek-o-checker. He was widely regarded as the cheekiest man in the West Midlands.

Once there was a man named Simon Tarmac. As his name suggests, Simon had a job in the zoo shovelling dung from the elephant enclosure. Simon loved his job. Not many people would be happy shovelling dung all day, but Simon was truly in his element. Of course, dung is not strictly an element, but that didn’t bother Simon. He was literally as happy as pig on the Moon.

Simon was very proud of his job. He had bought himself a special plaque which he had hung on the wall of his office. The plaque said “You don’t have to be mad to work here, but it would be an advantage if you weren’t put off by the smell of dung!!” Simon thought that was very funny indeed. He loved the smell of dung. He thought it smelled of life, passion, and fire.

Once, Simon’s bosses bought him a special ‘golden dung’ statuette as a token of their appreciation for all his hard work. The statuette looked like dung, but it did not have the smell or texture of real dung. Simon was a bit nervous of the statue, a bit similar to the way that some people are scared of androids, or are nervous around a dead body.

One day, Simon was shovelling the dung out of the elephant enclosure as usual, singing “The Dung Song” to himself, and feeling content in the knowledge he was doing something he loved, when his dung shovel hit something unexpected. With all his experience Simon knew the different textures of dung and could tell what was what just from a light scrape of the shovel, but this was something different.

He knelt down and, sure enough, in the middle of the dung pellet a white powder was mixed in with the usual fecal matter. He grabbed a handful and gave it a chew. It was as he suspected. The white powder was high grade uncut cocaine!

Simon marched straight over to confront the chief elephant about what he had found. The chief elephant, whose name was Alan Giraffe, took one look at the white powder and burst into tears.

“It’s all true,” said Alan Giraffe. “I went back to India to see my brother Horbert a few weeks ago, but times are hard in the jungle. Horbert’s family don’t even have enough money to afford glue, or gypsum. I wanted to help them, and I was approached at the airport by a tiger. He said I could earn some money by swallowing some plastic bags full of cocaine and smuggling them back to the zoo. I knew it was a risk, but what could I do? Please don’t tell the police? BOO HOO HOO…”

Simon Tarmac was touched by Alan Giraffe’s story, but he knew his duty. He reported the crime to the zoo police department and Alan Giraffe was hanged to death the next day, as was required by the law. After the execution, Simon Tarmac was given one of Alan’s tusks to remember him, as was requested by the elephant before he died.

Even though Simon had done what was right, he felt uneasy. The real villain in this story was the tiger who turned Alan to drug smuggling in the first place. He decided there and then, he was going to hunt down that tiger and make him pay for what he had done. He marched into the zookeeper’s office and handed in a holiday form for three weeks, starting immediately. The zookeeper was happy to sign off the form, as Simon had not had a day off in over fifteen years, not even for sickness.

When Simon arrived in India, he put his plan into action. He walked around the airport saying loudly to himself “Oh woe is me! I am so poor. If only there was a way I could raise myself some money.” Soon he was approached by a shifty looking baboon, who beckoned him into a dark corridor. A short distance inside the corridor there was a mysterious looking tiger. “Leave us,” said the tiger to the baboon, and Simon and the tiger were alone at last.

 “I want to make you an offer,” said the tiger, whose name was Rupert Bandy. “I will give you money in exchange for you smuggling some delicious cocaine for me. It’s quite easy, why just the other week I made an elephant a similar offer. What was his name? Yes that’s right, his name was Alan Giraffe.”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH,” screamed Simon Tarmac, and he flew at Rupert Bandy in a terrible rage. But Rupert Bandy was a tiger, which made him pretty tough, and he soon got the better of poor Simon.

“So be it,” said the tiger. “You have turned down my kind offer, now you must pay the price. I am going to take you into this side room here and rape you in the arse.”

Rupert Bandy dragged Simon Tarmac through a door into a small office and pinned him down as he ripped off Simon’s shirt, his trousers and finally pulled down his pants. Excitedly the tiger started to run his tongue over Simon’s twitchy bum-hole.

“Oh crumbs, this is it,” thought Simon to himself. Suddenly he felt something pressing into his chest. It was Alan Giraffe’s tusk, which he had been wearing around his neck on a bit of string. Over a foot long, made of strong ivory, and with a viciously sharp point, this gave Simon an idea….

Five minutes later, Simon was sliding the tusk rapidly in and out of Rupert Bandy’s moist anus. Then, Rupert did the same to Simon’s anus. Then they sucked each other’s cocks. Then they kissed passionately. Then they made love once more. “This is wonderful,” said Simon as the tiger licked his ballbag. “I’m never going back to that fucking zoo to shovel shit again!!”

And you know what? He never did.

The End