Say what you like about monkey nuts – they are he tastiest part of the monkey.
But seriously folks…
Monkey nuts are the monkey’s nuts. My mum continues to ban them in her house, on the grounds that they produce an inordinate amount of mess. And indeed they do: no matter how hard one tries to curb the detritus – putting said nuts in a bowl, putting said bowl on a tray – one invariably ends up with bits of shell and skin wedged down the side of the sofa. It’s almost like there is some kind of monkey nut pixie ensuring that such a thing happens.
But such an inconvenience is surely a price worth paying for a tender piece of simian testicle…
In all seriousness, the mess is pretty annoying, but what is the alternative? KP? Nobby’s Nuts? Sod all that shit. The fact is, ready-shelled peanuts are a different beast entirely – you don’t have to work for your nut, and the satisfaction accruing upon chowing down on it is therefore less. Interestingly, precisely the opposite is true for basically all other nuts,* apart fro perhaps pistachios. Ever tried to shell an almond? Totally not worth the bother.
Anyhoo. Monkey nuts. They are addictive – once you crack, you gotta snack. (That last sentence was certainly the best I have ever written, certainly on AFB and probably ever ever ever.) They are the thinking man’s Pringles; the moral pork scratching.
They are a Good Thing. And for that, we should all be grateful.
*pedants will note that peanuts are not strictly nuts at all. To such peope I say: thpthtpthtthtpthtpthtpthtpthtpthtpthtpth [sound of raspberry blowing]