Howard wearily steps into the keeper's hut. He is dressed in an ill-fitting black-and-white striped referee's outfit, complete with a white baseball cap and a luminous green whistle dangling from a loop of cord around his neck. Vince glances up from the sofa, noticing Howard's ridiculous apparel.
Vince: Alright, Howard. Where've you been?
Howard: Oh, Fossil organised a game of elephant hockey, didn't he. A complete and utter shambles... He just let the entire herd loose in the local park. It was mayhem! Carnage! Several people were severely trampled. A small girl dropped her choc ice. They had to close the playground. I tell you, Vince, I've never been so embarrassed in all my days as a zookeeper - slash - jazz visionary...
Vince sighs longingly, clutching a framed sepia photograph of Bollo and himself playing badminton.
Howard: Hang on, something's not right... Why aren't you making fun of me and dancing around like a little fairy? You're not still worried about Bollo, are you?
Vince: He's been gone all day, Howard. I just don't understand. When I left him last night, he seemed fine - all tucked up in his little beddy-bed with a mug of Horlick's. You were the last person to see him, weren't you. Didn't you notice anything strange?
Howard: You're asking me if I noticed anything strange about a forty-year-old talking ape?
Vince stares blankly at Howard.
Howard: Look, this very morn, I arrived at the Zooniverse at six o'clock sharp as usual, and when I gave Bollo his breakfast he was happily listening away to that Gary Numan mixtape you made him. Naturally I thought I'd play him one of my jazz LP's. We were just getting to the 4-hour flugelhorn solo when Fossil called me into his office - he'd gotten trapped inside his own mind again. I sorted Fossil out and returned to Bollo's enclosure quick as a beam, but when I got there he was nowhere to be seen... and my record player was smashed to bits! Who knows what drove old Bollo to escape... Perhaps it was his deep-rooted primal instincts, yeah, the call of the wild. The untamed African jungle beckoning his lowly return to the dusky wilderness...
Vince: He tunnelled his way through 10 inches of reinforced concrete with a frozen banana!
Howard: It was quite miraculous, actually. Look, you and he were close, I get that. He was close to me too.
Vince: What?
Howard: Yeah, we go way back, Bollo and I. Way, way back...
Vince: He said you were a jazz nob!
Howard: Yeah but he was just messin', wasn't he! That's how we roll, Bollo and I. Haha yeah, what a joker.
Vince: Last Wednesday, he said if you came anywhere near him again, he'd rip your head off.
Howard: Alright, Vince. Let's not get personal now, OK? What I'm getting at is, well, look at me! I'm not worried about Bollo, am I? No sir. Why d'ya think that is?
Vince: I've got a feeling you're gonna tell me.
Howard: I'll tell you for why! It's because I know that old Bollo can look after himself! I mean, did you know that the word gorilla literally means Jungle-King? Oh yeah. Gorilla's the king of the jungle...
Vince: That's the lion isn't it?
Howard: The lion? No sir, you've got it all wrong. You've got it all tangled up inside your thought-processing unit!
Vince: Have I?
Howard: Yeh! ... The lion's all show, isn't he! He's just a pretty boy - all style and no substance. Just look at that mane. It takes him three hours in front of the mirror every morning with a can of hairspray and a tub of root boost to keep that in check.
Vince: Yeah... It is a good look though. I mean, he could do with a few more accessories: ripped jeans, sweatbands, a crimson neckerchief, maybe a few highlights...
Howard: Yeah, just to stop you there Vince, I'll concede that the lion has a strong look, a glamorous look - glam-rock, sure. but it's not all about looks now, is it?
Vince: What do you mean it's not all about looks, Howard? Of course it is!
Howard: I'm just saying that the gorilla's a real man! A man's man! A brawler! Look, in a one-on-one fight between a lion and a gorilla, who's gonna win?
Vince: The lion, clearly!
Howard: OK. Yes. But what if the gorilla took the lion by surprise? They're ambush specialists, the gorillas, y'know. You hear a rustlin' in the bush and before you know it - EHHH! Gorilla's coming down on you fast like a beachball of hot simian fury!
Vince: No way! The lion would pop that bloated beach ball, and munch him down like a big creme egg.
Howard: Oh really?
Vince: And lick out the tasty filling.
Howard: Oh really?
Vince: Yeh, really.
Howard: That's true - but - what if the gorilla was... armed?
Vince: Armed?
Howard: Lightly armed.
Vince: With what? A violent shrub?
Howard: No. Not necessarily. The gorilla is adept in the use of all manner of tools: spanners, hedge trimmers, staplers... They call him the handyman of the forest! Haha - that's one of mine.
Vince: I thought he was King of the Jungle?
Howard: He has many honorary titles - many accolades! While the lion's off swanning about Camden market with his harem of lionesses, looking for a new studded leather purse, who do you think stays behind to manage all of the jungle business? Filing away the admin, pruning the hedges, disinfecting the toilets? Old Mr Gorilla, that's who!
Vince: I dunno, I like the sound of the lion. He sounds amazing!
Howard: Well, that's your prerogative, Vince. All I'm saying is that Bollo, well, he's gonna be alright.
Vince: I suppose you're right. Thanks, Howard. I'm feeling much better now.
Howard: That's good to know, little man.
Vince: And you know what? While you were talking about all that stuff just now, I came up with a brilliant plan to find Bollo!
Howard: Then lay it on me thick, sunshine! Let's waste no time!
Vince: Ah, you're gonna love it, Howard - it's genius! Fool proof, haha! All we need, right, is a net, some sweets and a looong bronze trident... Oh, and we'll have to disguise you as a prostitute spider monkey...
Howard chokes on a mouthful of tea.
