Bos'n Julian and Cap'n Smythe are idling away some time on Skull Island by filling in a crossword. Smythe is stumped. "'The distances between the centres and the circumferences of two or more circles'," he reads. "R-A-D something something. Any ideas, Jules?""I-I, Cap'n?" offers Julian.
The men's puzzling is interrupted by the appearance of Nigella on the rope bridge above them. She's waving her arms furiously at Skull Island's resident monkey, Bernard."Give that back at once, you filthy flea-bitten chimp!" she screams.
"What on Earth's going on?" enquires Smythe.
"Oh, hello, you two," she responds, noticing them for the first time. "That beastly monkey has stolen the card that I was going to send to Rupert in prison. It's our eleven-week anniversary, so it's super-important."
Julian is unable to suppress his pedantic impulses. "Generally, Nigella," he begins, "the term 'anniversary' is reserved for events that occur on an annual basis, although the fact that your relationship with Rupert has lasted for two and a half months is undoubtedly sufficiently miraculous to merit an exception."
"Oh, do shut up, Julian," Nigella snaps. "Why do you always have to be so horrid?"
Nigella returns to the task of pursuing her simian tormentor up and down the rigging."What's left on our list of things to do today, Julian?" asks Smythe.
"Well, we've finished the Crossword," says Julian, "so according to our schedule, all that remains is to drink woo-woos and sing amusingly lewd shanties until the small hours of the morning."
Cap'n Smythe is pleased. "Excellent news, old boy. Toodle-pip, Nigella; we're off to get monumentally sozzled."
Meanwhile, at the Governor's fort, Rupert and Geoffrey are in prison for failing to dispose of their chewing gum in a sanitary manner. Rupert is starting to crack under the pressure of incarceration. "I haven't seen Nigella for three days, Geoffrey," he laments. "She must be missing me frightfully."Geoffrey does his best to look sympathetic.
"A woman has needs, you know," Rupert concludes.
The soldiers guarding the cell overhear this speech. "Needs, eh?" muses Lance Corporal Davies. "What kinds of needs are those, Rupe?"
"Oh, you know the sort of thing, old chap; Nigella's got these blasted hay fever tablets that she always forgets to take when I'm not there to remind her."
"Well, how about we stop by and see if she's all right?" offers Davies. "It's the least we can do, what with the whole throwing-you-in-jail-for-a-minor-transgression thing."
"That'd be awfully kind of you," says Rupert, gratefully. "The last thing I want is to get home and find her all puffy-eyed."
Davies addresses his fellow soldiers. "Right-ho, men; let's be off, shall we?" He turns to the prisoners. "And don't you two try any escaping while we're gone. I know what you're like."
"No chance of that, Davies, old bean," replies Rupert. "Geoffrey and I are thirteen hours into a charades marathon. We're going for the world endurance record."
So Davies and his Privates squeeze into a rowing boat and head for Skull Island."He's a decent sort, that Rupert," says the Lance Corporal. "I always like to assist the rehabilitation of prisoners when I can."
"I hear that his girlfriend is a bit of looker, too," Private Wilson chips in.
"That has absolutely nothing to do with it," insists Davies.
As the soldiers approach their destination, Private Wilson scans the horizon with his telescope. Before long, he catches sight of the pirates' crow's nest."I can see her!" he cries. "Phwoar!"
"What's she doing?" asks Davies, "Sunbathing in the nuddy?"
"Er, no..." says Wilson, hesitantly, "she seems to be fully-clothed, chasing a monkey up and down a rope ladder."
"Phwoar!" blurt the other two, in unison.
Nigella is still trying to retrieve her card when the soldiers arrive at the shore. "Ahoy there!" shouts Davies."Oh, hello, fellows," says Nigella, descending to the ground. "I'm afraid you can't arrest Rupert and Geoffrey today; they're already in chokey."
The Lance Corporal nods. "That's where we've come from. Your man Rupert said that you might have some needs to be attended to."
"Rupe said that? He's such a sweetie! As it happens, I'm trying to catch this recalcitrant chimp; could you give me a hand?"
So the soldiers set to work chasing the monkey. Before long, they've retrieved Nigella's card."Thanks awfully!" she sings, and pecks each blushing man on the cheek. "Bernard's been so naughty lately; I don't know what's got into him."
"Perhaps he's got the Rage virus," suggests Private Wilson. "You know, like in Twenty-Eight Days Later."
They all laugh heartily at this idea.
Suddenly, Julian shambles into the group, not looking at all well. He's vomiting blood copiously, and emitting strange strangulated noises though his nose."Aaargh!" screams Davies, falling into the sea in terror. "He really has got the Rage virus! Run for it, boys!" The men start to scramble back into their boat.
Nigella is slightly taken aback, but her ability to prioritise remains unaffected."I couldn't impose on you chaps to give this letter to Rupert when you get back, could I?" she asks the rapidly departing soldiers. "I'd be ever so grateful."
"Whatever you say!" whimpers Davies. "Just keep that thing away from me!"
With her card safely in the postal system, Nigella feels more relaxed than she has done all day.
As the soldiers row frantically away, Cap'n Smythe saunters casually on to the scene of the drama. "I say, Nigella," he begins, "have you seen Jules knocking about? He left in an awful hurry." "I'm not absolutely sure, cap'n," she replies. "There's a twitching sack of leaking meat just over there that bears a passing resemblance to him."
"Oh, yes," chuckles Smythe, "that's him all right. Dreadfully funny story, actually; we were drinking our customary woo woos, and Jules was so utterly blotto that he took a swig of your nail varnish remover instead of Peach Schnapps!"
"How frightful!" gasps Nigella.
"Oh, he'll be all right when he's slept it off."
"No, I meant, how frightful: that was my last bottle of nail varnish remover."
Later on, the soldiers return to the Governor's Fort, looking rather shaken.
"What's the matter, fellows?" asks Rupert. "Is Nigella all right?"
"That woman is maniac: she tried to set her zombie monkey on us!" exclaims Davies. "I tell you Rupert, get out while you still can; she's a fruit-loop.
"Oh, she sent you this card, by the way," he adds, pushing the envelope through the bars.
"Zombie monkey?" repeats Rupert, confused. "Dashed if I know what he's talking about, Geoffrey."
Geoffrey indicates that he's no wiser, so Rupert opens his delivery.
"There you are, you see, Geoffrey; a lovely card from Nigella. I told you she'd be missing me. It's a pity you don't have a girlfriend waiting for you to make your time in prison seem slightly more bearable."
Geoffrey smiles sarcastically.
"You know your problem, Geoffrey? You talk too much. It puts women off, all that gas-bagging, you mark my words. Now, let's get back to the charades marathon; it's your turn, old chap."
Geoffrey begins to gesture.
"I say!" exclaims Rupert. "That's not terribly polite, Geoff!"
