Monkey business

The fields glittered as the frozen light of a winter sun spilled over the horizon onto a landscape embrittled by frost. Lonely pink clouds skulked guiltily as dawn's rosy fingers stroked the frigid belly of the sky.
Ecks was surprised that morning, as he rescued frozen bottles of milk from the doorstep, to see a ragged bundle of fur heaped beside the frosty dustbins. Intrigued, he poked at it with his foot and a pitiful whimper escaped the matted form. Ecks bent down and picked up the creature, its fur sodden from the frost that had tried in vain to carpet it, and carried it inside.
The figure that Ecks laid before the fire seemed to be some kind of half man, half monkey, some three feet tall, with thick brown coat and a face whose carved lines belied a certain leaning towards mischief. As a flush of colour returned to this face, like a film of oil spreading across water, his eyes began to open.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name's Ecks. Who are you? What were you doing outside my house?"
"I'm the Monkey Man, and I'm on my way to London. I've travelled all the way from New Delhi."
"That's a long way to come."
"A day's journey is still just a day's journey."
"I suppose so. Why did you leave?"
"I had to, they didn't want me any more."
"What happened?"
"In just a couple of weeks I went from a normal, run-of-the-mill half-man, half-monkey to the most famous monkey man in the world. I was in all the newspapers, I had the world at my feet! And then, just as quickly, it all just...died. Nobody seemed to want to know me any more."
"Do you really think London will be any different?"
The Monkey Man paused, and deep lines ploughed themselves into his forehead as he thought. He sighed.
"I wanted to be the next big thing. The next Bigfoot."
"Bigfoot's got a fanbase, and those take time to build. Sounds like you were more of a flash in the pan."
The Monkey Man's eyes misted over with a film of tears, and Ecks threaded a fatherly arm around his shoulder. Tangled fur caught in his fingers.
"Tell you what," Ecks said, "Why don't you stay here for while, with me? You can sleep in the spare room. London's only a train journey away - you could go up there from time to time, start building yourself a reputation. Go about it the right way."
"Maybe you're right," he murmured, "Maybe that is the way to go about it."
And so, in the end, the Monkey Man never did reach London, and Ecks finally found a lodger for his spare room.
"By the way, it smells funny in here," said the Monkey Man, his nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Yes, sorry about that. We had goblins, so we had to fumigate."

Just who exactly is this Monkey Man?