Obviously, I hope that the fleet-footed Japanese macaque that escaped from Highland Wildlife Park is safely back at the park as soon as possible. But a wee bit of me hopes that he or she will outwit the stern fellows from the Royal Zoological Society of Scotland.
So glum are they at RZSS that they don’t want public interest, and are referring to the macaque as “it”. They are determined to give no clues about even the monkey’s sex, and are pooh-poohing all suggestions. They fear that if they reveal the name, we may start to love it.
Yes, sirree. So, I will call it Marion, which works for a boy or girl. Remember John Wayne.
Speaking as someone who’s been bitten by a macaque, they have a point. In Gibraltar, there are a few hundred semi-wild Barbary macaques on the Rock. They look cute as you climb, but if you extend an arm to offer a chew of cheese sandwich, they may jump up and bite.
A large ape bit my hand and little finger, then made off with my plums and my Curly Wurly. You could have heard my screams in Tangier, across the Strait of Gibraltar.
After I’d been to the RAF sick bay to get a jab in my nether regions, I had a name for that macaque. Swearing in Gaelic can involve much “mac an…”, and “mac na…” – son of this and son of that. So, cursing a macaque in Gaelic involves a lot of macs.
Animals – and some people – in the news for any length of time get a nickname. Killers, such as Jack the Ripper. Margaret Thatcher was the Iron Lady, and Madonna is Madge. Prince Harry is no longer The Ginger One but The Spare. Well, he can blame himself for writing that silly book.
The South African pig that could make marks on paper was Pigcasso. The missing macaque is not big, but is already being seen as a mini-King Kong. So, it is Kingussie Kong or Kincraig Kong already. I don’t know if there is a high tower down there it can climb, as many pylons have been taken down. I would watch the turret at the Cairngorm Hotel in Aviemore.
Escaping animals bring back bitter memories. One day at a shearing fank, I was put in charge of a pen with a ram and several sheep. It was just the ruins of an old house at Bosta. Ridiculous: I was only nine.
I did my best, but no way could I stop Roddy the ram from knocking me over, battering the flimsy makeshift gate to smithereens, and fleeing with his fleece. Shabby and unshorn, Roddy and his harem were last seen speeding off towards Bosta Beach, with every Gaelic insult known to man ringing in my tender, young ears. It’s been a while, so please forgive me.
In vino veritas
When you haven’t heard a word or phrase for a while, isn’t it funny how it pops up everywhere? Like Horizon. Clown is another one. The phrase “hold a drink”, to keep within Covid rules. I hadn’t heard that one.
Mind you, our beleaguered politicos in Scotland weren’t as bad as boozy Boris and the unquestioning underlings he bossed about when he was PM. An FOI inquiry has finally revealed this week the cost of his inappropriate party for getting Brexit done.
After two years of legal tussles, prissy civil servants have finally been forced to reveal that the booze bill for their wee Brexit party at No 10 was a mighty £7,897. Remember those “work events”?
The weak Information Commissioner buckled and claimed the public interest was not strong enough, and supported the decision to hide the facts. Happily, determined campaigners took it all the way to an information tribunal, which ruled against the government. We now know guests swigged 117 bottles of Gusbourne Blanc de Blancs 2014 from Kent and Sussex vineyards. A bottle sold for around £65. In vino veritas.
And iubentium – which is I think the Latin for cheers – to our government for now banning single-use vapes. These manky things should never have existed. My own view is that all vapes, which are packed with addictive nicotine, are poisoning people. Now, the world looks like it will follow suit, after doing nothing for years.
And, for many years, we have heard that computers will put writers out of their jobs because of AI. They also say many monkeys with many keyboards could produce the entire works of Shakespeare. Oh, heck. Maybe the missing monkey just wants to find a keyboard.
Maybe it’s not artificial intelligence we should fear, but animal intelligence. If this column is not written by me next week, it could be that Kingussie Kong has turned up in Aberdeen.
Iain Maciver is a former broadcaster and news reporter from the Outer Hebrides
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