Life Lessons from The Mighty Boosh

Easily the maddest show anyone's seen for some time, The Boosh--created by Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding--sparkles on our telly-boxes like a narwhal in a button-box, stretching our mind-brains and stroking our imaginations like a seductive hamster. In the three seasons of the Boosh, here are some of the valuable lessons all Boosh fans should learn. Strap yerselves in, 'cause the Boosh is loose and it's comin' atcha like a shark with knees…

Take inspiration for your morning routine from Howard TJ Moon, and lose yourself in some sweet sweet jazz. Whether you want to chase the Trane or fly with the Bird, a little bebop of a morn might very well do you a world of good.

Don't misunderstand me--mice love techno. The merest clang of a Moog synth can make any mouse as happy as a tiger with peanut butter. But there's always such a thing as too much of a good thing. Fear not--a puddle of orange juice and a spell in the ambient room will sort out your mouse, no worries.

Vince Noir proved this beyond a shadow of a doubt. A cheerful Camden chimney-sweep on an average day, Vince becomes nearly delirious with joy when sporting the traditional Mexican garment. Even the more melancholy-inclined Howard proved susceptible to the power of the poncho.

Yes, okay, Tommy Nooka is a bit of a nutcase. But the dairy-based rocker is an acknowledged font of mystical wisdom. Trust in the word of Tommy--I'm sure it'll all make sense someday, if you think about it.

And remember this as well: if it seems to make sense, ask yourself if it really makes sense. Yes, it seems to make sense…but does it really make sense?

Ivan, the so-called "hairy Russian carpet guy," is one bad mutha on any day of the week. But when exposed to the primal intricacies of jazz-funk, he's liable to come atcha like a capybara with a grudge. But pop some Gary Numan deliciousness in the tape-deck, and it's all smooth sailing, brother. Smooth sailing…

Charlie is the brain-child of Vince Noir (the glitter-bug mayor of Kentish Town) and Eric Phillips (noted mad scientist and crocodile). An LA native who relocated to Alaska, Charlie is a hoover-shaped conglomeration of chewed bubble-gum. But make no mistake, Charlie is real. And though he may look like a pink non-entity, Charlie is raring and ready to take on anybody who dares dis him or his spiritual daddy, Vince. Be careful, or you'll let yourself in for a hubba-bubba nightmare.

Who can forget the classic boxing match between the Killeroo and Howard Moon (former male prostitute)? By the end of the first round, it looked like curtains for Moon after getting the stuffing beat out of him by the Antipodean Killing Machiean. But then, as the match seemed close to a finish, Howard's young apprentice Vince heeded the advice of Naboo the Enigma and grabbed the Killeroo right on his fuzzy testicles. A firm squeeze "down under," and victory was Howard's.

After all, NanaToo looks like a harmless mother's mother on the outside. But get too close, and you'll find yourself strangled in her knitting and impaled upon her needles. Nanageddon, baby.

Whether you're a casual fashion-plate or an all-out ravin' maven like Vince Noir, keeping your finger on the pulse of the fashion world is always a good idea. A subscription to Cheekbone magazine is an excellent way to stay ahead of the curve. Before long, you'll be more fashionable than a flat white peacock.

Heed the warning of the Bongo Brothers, Rudi and Spider. They know first-hand how dangerous an obsolete format can be, from their encounter with the infamous Betamax Bandit. A tricky customer in anyone's book, the Betamax Bandit is not kind, and will not rewind…at least, not without a fight.

This one is pretty much self-explanatory. The Sandstorm, because of his rough and abrasive nature, was never able to love anyone, least of all himself. But when Vince gave him his spiffy white tasseled gloves, the problem was solved. Vince earned himself an invaluable ally, and Sandy could finally touch the world the way he'd always dreamed of.

And himself as well, though maybe not in quite the same way.

Let the story of Howard Moon and Precious Lilywhite serve as a warning to all practicing coco-sexuals out there. While the passion you feel may evolve into love, it will ultimately be your undoing, as sure as a Bank Holiday Monday.

You'll run afoul of Old Gregg for sure. And trust me, even one encounter with the funky transsexual merman is enough to scar your soul forever.

Whether it's the incomparable Eleanor or a Sandstorm or Monkey the Visionary, those who live on the fringes of society are often those who are in the best position to save it. They may not be the heroes that we want, but they are the heroes we need.

In life, you will inevitably encounter your own Lance Diors and Harold Booms, and they will try their best to steal your game. But remember this: they only copy you because they can't muster up any kind of unique spark of their own. Find out what makes you the special sparkling fairy-cake you are, and then flaunt it for all it's worth. Leave the copycats in the dust.

Vince Noir's tense battle with the Jazz Virus is the health PSA we've been waiting for. Allergic reactions to music are little-known but serious medical conditions, powerful enough to snap even the strongest constitution like a chocolatey biscuit. Consult your physician to see if good old-fashioned vinyl is a delicious anarchic snack, or if it will lead to an uncomfortable and generally embarrassing death.

Consider the Hitcher, the massive-thumbed man-witch who lurks in the shadows of Hackney. For nearly three centuries, he's wandered this Earth like a psychotic geriatric string-bean, visiting violence on any being who dares cross him. But no reputation can ever survive untarnished through the ravages of time, and the Hitcher is no exception. Times must change, and so must we all; and fortunately for him, so has the Hitcher. Check out his latest electro-doggerel single, enigmatically titled "Eels."

The urban fox is not to be trusted, not even a little bit. Yes, they come on all vulnerable, with their hard-luck stories and tummy-shames, but the minute you let your guard down, they'll make off with your possessions lickety-split. They're right little berks, the whole lot of them.

On balance, it's never a good idea to get on the wrong side of the Head Shaman. But sometimes, circumstances--and Extreme Sports Calendar Models--are not in your favor. And when the Head Shaman comes bearing down on you for allegedly being in love with his wife, the best and simplest alibi is proclaiming your love for some other person. Problem solved…with a little casual spit-swapping, of course.

The art of crimping is neither ancient nor dignified, but it nevertheless a considerable pursuit. It requires great concentration, a swift wit, and a complete lack of self-consciousness. If you believe you have the right stuff, then follow your dreams. Who knows, you may soon be up there with the likes of Vince and Howard.

For this last lesson, we must take our inspiration not from Howard or Vince, but from Bob Fossil. The American ex-pat with the marvelous quiff may not know much about how to run a zoo (or a nightclub for that matter), but he does know a thing or five about how to win an argument. Channel your inner Bobby-Bob-Bob and tell that ignoramus for the last time: YOU DON'T LIKE CRICKET.