I was undressed by a woman on the tube last night. Well, by her eyes anyway.

I was a bit sweaty so decided to stand at one end of the carriage. My navy tracksuit bottoms and polo-shirt were a little grubby after volunteering at the building site of the new orphanage.

Even though I hadn’t shaved, she couldn’t take her eyes off me, and I find it very unnerving being objectified by lustful women. It’s the curse of these damned gorgeous blue-eyes I have. I was thoroughly knackered and tried yawning several times in the hope of averting her gaze. I was unsuccessful.

She rummaged around in her handbag, I assume to look for a taser with which to stun me so she could take me home and do rude things to me, but fortunately, the tube came to a halt so I jumped off and ran.

I don’t even live anywhere near Barons Court.

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I’ve always considered the pub the be a place for drinking, watching sports, a bit of banter, and of course, for partaking in serious philosophical debate. The latter being what we spent our time on last Wednesday.

Fat Jim is reading a book about space exploration and was trying to explain to our mate Wiv (as in “With it”, because he isn’t very) about the potential infinite nature of space.

“So you see, potentially, space will go on for infinity”, explained Fat Jim to those of us still awake at the Bar.

“But what happens when you get to the end then?” asked a somewhat bemused Wiv.

“There is no end Wiv, that’s the whole point, that’s what infinity is!”

“I thought it was just a really big number like a gazillion million?”

It was at this point that the conversation moved onto some examples to illustrate the nature of infinity, in the vain hope that Wiv would eventually ‘get it’. The classic scenario is obviously that of the infinite number of monkeys and typewriters producing the complete works of Shakespeare. After someone pointed out that an infinite number of Wivs probably couldn’t reproduce the first page of the bar menu, Wiv decided he would need to conduct an experiment to test this monkey theory. One that would need the help of his cousin from the City.

Last night Wiv came into the pub to tell us all about his experiments with infinity. He and his cousin, who works at London Zoo, took a typewriter into the Sparrow Monkey enclosure after the Zoo closed to see just how close to Shakespeare they could get.

For some reason Wiv thought they might get a couple of pages of the Bards work, and at the very least a few sentences.

Wiv had a sheet of paper on which he and his cousin had recorded the efforts of the monkeys.

Monkey 1 – Grinned a lot, ignored typewriter and continued rapid nodding motions at me.

Monkey 2 – Jumped up and down on the spot and covered eyes in a comedy manner like the monkeys in the teabag adverts.

Monkey 3 – Got agitated and swung round the cage. Think he spat at me.

Monkey 4 – Masturbated in a frenzied manner.

Monkey 5 – Showed his teeth and made cheetah from Tarzan noises. Monkeys have sharp teeth.

Monkey 6 – Shat into his hands and threw it at me. I fucking hate monkeys.

After reading Wiv’s findings we have all agreed it’ll take more than infinity. Or cleverer monkeys.

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