Watch out, monks, here I come!

Guess wot, Jude! Stephen rang the ol’ Archbear Chief Head Monk bloke at that monastery I was telling you about, and put in a good word for me so’s I can go and do some monking.

Stephen was on the phone for ages.  There was a spot of bovver coz the old fusspot – the Archbear, I mean, not Stephen, though Stephen’s a bit of an old woman in his own way. What was I saying? –  oh, yeah, the Archmonk wanted to know if I’d ever been in any trouble, like with the bear police, or anything like that.

Well, Jude, you know what Stephen’s like – he can’ t tell a lie.  He just can’t do it.  (What a drip!  He doesn’t know what he’s missing. I l0ve lying.)  Anyway, Stephen said yes, there had been an incident a long time ago and the Archbish bear said, what was that, then? and Stephen said I’d been the innocent party in a brawl with some very rough bears outside a pub in Cardiff.  Cheers, Stephen – ‘innocent’, eh?  Thanks for wrecking my street-cred.

I remember that night, Jude. Hee-hee-hee! It was two summers ago, before I met Stephen. There was this marvellous pub, full of frothing tankards, and bears knocking ’em back, and playing darts and flicking peanuts at the landlord.  You should’ve been there, Jude.  The place was jumpin’!  It was dead hot outside, too.  Really sweaty. Anyway, after chucking-out time I was having a fag in the back alley when this big brawny brutish bear in leathers came up and called me a girlie so I socked him one. Then the landlord opened the door and kicked out these two bears he’d found asleep on the floor in the loo, and they joined in, and we were all merrily bashing each other when someone called the bear cops and I got blamed. Wottalarf!

Where was I? Oh, that’s right, the Chief Monk Archbear. Well, he was a bit sniffy about all this and he said he took a ‘dim view’ or something pompous like that, but Stephen said he was convinced it was a miscarriage of justice and that in his eyes I hadn’t a stain on my character.

So I’m in!  The only drawback is, Stephen’s got to come with me to discourage me from going to any pubs.  He’s acting as guarantor for my good conduct. It’s going to be such a gas, Jude. I can’t wait to meet the monks. When I’m on gardening duty I’ll scratch about with the rake for a few minutes, then fling it behind a bush and go off and do some private sunbathing.  I’ll get Stephen to cover for me.

Love from Ted

 

A quiet evening with Ted

My very dear friend Judy,

Ted was rather bored earlier this evening.  He couldn’t find anything to amuse him on the TV.  I suggested a DVD – the other night I’d recorded one of the plays of William Shakesbear.  But Ted said he’d done Shakesbear at school and hadn’t rated him.

He is now happily occupied, lying on the sofa with a small can of beer, a slab of cake, a pencil and a notebook, making a list of my faults.

I am so very grateful to him, my dear Judy.  I’m always anxious to improve my character so that I can be worthy of him.

Yesterday he told me that he would like to enter the monastery which I visited recently for my period of reflection. They offer a four-week residency for bears who would like to sample the monastic life. To earn their keep, the bears have to help in the vegetable garden. I didn’t know that Ted was interested in gardening but he says he likes marrows and cucumbers.

What is your opinion, Judy?  Should I support him in this worthy plan? I am sure that the monastery would benefit enormously from Ted’s presence.  He has such a good, honest soul.  My friend the Archbear would, I feel, help Ted to discover his spiritual side.

Yours with deep affection,

Stephen

 

 

Yo, Jude!

Stephen’s in the bedroom, doing his yoga and stuff. He’s dead good at the lotus position. Do I mean lotus or locust? The one where you tie your legs in a knot. Whatever!  I can’t be arsed, myself.

I’ve been thinking about that business of Stephen going off to that monastery place to see the Archbear or Archduke or whatever the silly ass calls himself.  Stephen’s dead interested in places like that, and being all deep and weird about everything, and anyway, Jude, it’s got me thinking.  The thing is, I’m a bit bored.  I won’t be seeing Tarquin at the supermarket any more coz good old Tarkers has gone and got the sack.  They caught him with a bottle of creme de menthe down his trousers.  I’m really peed off with him.  Fancy getting caught! He’s gone off to London to do modelling.

What was I saying?  Oh, yeah, about that monastery. I’ve been thinking, I might quite fancy a bit of monking. Wotcha think, Jude?  Think I’d be any good? I don’t want to do it for ever.  Just a few weeks, to see what they get up to – gardening and singing and eating porridge. It’d be fun!  I bet I could shake the Archbear up a bit.  I might be able to make something out of him.

I’ll run it past Stephen when he’s finished his yoga.

Luv,

Ted