It was a slightly muggy evening in late August. Mjohnson and Esmerelda, his primate companion for the evening, were sipping cocktails on the terrace of the exclusive Pomme de Terre restaurant in central Soho. Johnson was admiring the way the fading light had softened Esmerelda’s chimpy features. In profile, she resembled a young Billie Piper.

This was the all-important third date. Johnson swilled tequila nervously round his mouth. He knew that, if he was able to maintain the pace and wit of his conversation, Esmerelda would be coming home with him tonight. He watched fondly as she used both paws to lift her glass to her protruding lips, drained it and fished the fruit garnish out with her fingers. She sucked on the slice of orange noisily, before throwing it at him. He felt his loins twitch.

‘Shall we get the bill darling?’

After quite a nasty argument with a taxi driver about Esmerelda gnawing a large hole in the back seat of his cab, pulling out the foam interior and trying to stuff it down Johnson’s trousers, the mood was somewhat stifled. But once inside the house, he rectified the situation with a blast of Barry White, a quick flick of the dimmer switch and some Penguins he’d found at the bottom of the biscuit barrel. Another argument ensued as he tried in vain to persuade Esmerelda to remove the wrapping before consuming the chocolate but she began to shriek and beat her chest in a frankly arousing manner. Christ, he loved strong women.

‘Shall we take these upstairs?’ he murmured in her bristly ear.

A night of sublime and all-consuming passion followed. There were screeches. Nibbles. An orchestra. Afterwards, Esmerelda lovingly searched through Johnson’s hair for parasites, as he lay back and planned a honeymoon in the Maldives, a ski season in Aspen. Body popping down the local disco on a Friday night, Sunday morning browsing at B&Q…

But reader, should you think this tale has an unrealistically happy ending, then think on! For it’s all turned sourer than a pickled egg after a day in the sun. It seems there was some sort of dispute between the pair over the last Rolo. Insults were hurled. Faeces was flung. Esmerelda has launched a vicious smear campaign against her former lover, who now faces up to ten years in jail for acts of bestiality. How low can a chimp go? Pretty fucking low.

We know that Johnson is innocent. He has never shown anything but the greatest respect for the simian population. To accuse him of taking advantage of a member of a group of animals he has only ever sought to learn from, to emulate, and occasionally, to romance, is frankly, an act of deep and shocking cruelty.

Something must be done! The madness must be stopped! Johnson's trousers must be returned to him, and he should be released back into the wild without delay. We shall not rest until justice has been done.

Yours sincerely,
Mildly disgruntled mob

N.B. In response to this article, a spokeswoman for Esmerelda made the following statement: