Galatea, I can't think of a single story that would involve a monkey. Ulric, I'm drawing a blank on anything remotely clever involving your "that's not cricket" phrase. Some days are like that. I submit this blurb for both of you simply to fulfill the requirements. I need to move on. Don't give up on me, just give me another word.
Brad the gorilla has been in our family for a long time. Currently, he lives in the basement with my brother, Ulric. Brad is as vulgar as Ulric is courteous. He spills cornflakes on the floor in the kitchen and eats the leftover vegetable korma that I was saving for my lunch. Brad drives our car without permission and brings it back with dents and dings. (“At least he brings it back,” Bede says.) Brad sheds hairs in my bread bowls, chases the kitties, and teaches Lucia rude words like “mongoose” and “turnip.”
I suppose it’s “not cricket” to complain. After all, Brad makes incredible bananas foster and gives Lucia free guitar lessons. What monkey do you know who could do the same?