Friday, October 05, 2007

Late Night With The Chipster

Contractually, as you know, I’m not allowed to reveal myself fully to you on this blog. There are some things I have keep back for the live show. That means there are no pictures of my famous Neil Kinnock routine, no video of my thrusting hips or swinging genitals, and definitely no shots of me sans-thong. This leaves with a predicament when it comes to new visitors. If they don’t live in Wales, they probably haven’t heard of the Thonglateer Extraordinaire. They won’t have attended any of my sell-out shows. They won’t have experienced the smell of pineapple oil drifting from the stage before I come running on to the theme tune from The Persuaders.

It’s partly why I feel it’s imperative that I finish my autobiography as soon as possible. People who haven’t experienced the Chipster live should at least know about his remarkable rise to the top of his profession. They should understand my charity work, my political work that should have rightly been rewarded with a place of that list.

I understand, therefore, why Non-Working Monkey should doubt my claim that I’m the biggest name in Welsh stripping. If only she had done a little research on the internet, she’d have found countless stories of my nude exploits. I really shouldn’t have to wake Gabby up at half-past one in the morning, just so she can come and snap a picture of me in the living room. But for once that’s exactly what I’ve done.

Gabby was not happy.

‘A******g monkey?’ she said. ‘You want picture for a ******g monkey?

‘It’s not a real monkey,’ I replied, my cap literally in my hand.

‘I should ******g hope not,’ she replied. ‘You want to hold banana while I take picture?’

I explained about the contractual reasons why my banana couldn’t shown, even for a monkey.

She snatched the digital from my hands. ‘I take******g picture but then you let Gabby sleep. I up early in the ******g morning. Cheeky Girls go sing at hospital for sick children.’

‘Then make sure you sing them the hokey ******g cokey,’ I said, sourly striking the pose you see in the above picture. And as you can also see, I even made a banner just to prove it was tonight and for Non-Working Monkey.

For some reason, Gabby took the picture in black and white but since I only discovered this after she’d gone to bed, I figured I’d post it as it is. Not only is it more artistic this way, it saved me the trouble of rousing a previously roused Romanian. If any of you like the shot, I’ll be having 8x10 glossy photos made up, available at the usual place at the usual rates.



I am crying. In my pants. With joy.

Big Chip Dale said...

I'm glad you are. It's the best I can do unless you come down to Bangor and see one of my shows. I'm still not convinced, by the way, that you're a non-working monkey. I suspect your photograph is actually a drawing.

Clare said...

I'm trying to find listings for your gigs. I could come and throw some knickers at you. If you're really bad I'll get some giant ones, for covering you up.

Richard Madeley said...

Chip, you have no shame. Is there nothing you won't do to promote yourself?

Ms Baroque said...

Dick, sweetie, I'm beginning to suspect you of stalking the Stripping One. You're not hoping to learn all his best tips and steal facts, are you?

Big Chip Dale said...

Clare, perhaps it's under Yahoo not google, or the other way round. I am there. I must be there. As for big knickers, I'm trained to deal with them. It comes with being a professional.

Dick, you're right. There's little I wouldn't do. I'd even appear on your show.

Ms. Baroque, I'm glad I'm not the only one to think that. Dick is clearly thinking of his next career and has come to ask the expert. Thinking of a career without Judy, Dick?