THE CHRONIC BOREDOM OF A FEM AND A FELINE

Tommy my cat and I were bored, oh so bored, bored out of our tiny brains. We were bored by boredom bordering on a bulimic, Bulgarian budgerigar buffing a buffoon in Buffalo.
When boredom reaches that state, it needs to be tackled befor it leads to telepathic tedium.
Boredom can kill, especially if you are in the habit of driving jumbo jets or cutting someone's heart out and putting in another. Neither Tommy or I were engaged in either of these pursuits, but we still were--bored.
We had tried everything to beat the boredom. We watched the TV for two hours, maybe we should have switched it on. We read books, wrote books, ate books and danced on books, leaving me to believe that books will not cure boredom. We played scrabble, but the only word we could come up with was-boredom. I even took all my clothes off and pranced buck naked in front of the window. That had nothing to do with boredom, I was just paying the window cleaning man..
I ran at the wall with my head-missed- and went flying into the scullery.
"Tommy!" I shrieked "This boredom is boring into my brain,. What can we do Tommy?" I screamed, "what can we do to beat this boring boredom?".
Tommy was so bored, he was writing his name on the white bearskin rug in a very novel way.
"Tommy!" I yelled "is that-pee?" "No" said Tommy "its a T, don't you know how to spell?"
"Tommy!" I yelled, "let's go down to the undertakers and try on some shrouds".
"Been there, done that" said Tommy "and still waiting for the T-shirt."
I ran at the wall with my head again-missed- and landed up with my head in the kitchen sink.
"You haven't quite got the hang of that." said Tommy "Watch me and I'll show you how to do it."
When Tommy came round, he was still bored, so books, scrabble, watching TV, or running at the wall with your head will not cure boredom. Just goes to show, what the so-called experts know.
Suddenly I had the answer, "Tommy!" I yelled "let's climb into a big pair of trousers and go round Belfast pretending to be Steven Nolan". "What a wheeze," yelled Tommy, "let's do it now, before we forget!"
He's not well liked is Steven Nolan, no, no, no, not well liked at tall. Oh the abuse we got!
"Lard bum, fat boy, Tubby, big head, man mountain, jelly belly!" was just some of the abuse we got--and that was from his mother-Big Audrey.
Then, as Tommy and I manouvered the large pair of trousers round a sharp corner, we ran into the lad himself. Steven stared at us, tears streamed down his obese face and he roared like a water buffalo."Its--its my long lost brother Ludovick. Ludo!" he bellowed, "Ludo, where have you been? I'm sorry I put you into a box and sent you to Australia for eating my prawn cocktail crisps when we were just wee boys. You look-great" yelled Tubby "Have you been working out?" Then the jolly green giant, opened his arms and lumbered towards us.
"Give me a hug, Ludo" he bawled. "Give old Stevie a hug, "I'm going to kiss the gub off you!" he
bellowed. Tommy and I took to our heels, pursued by Tubby, with his rose -bud lips pursed.
The large pair of trousers were going flat out. We went through red lights and over round-a-bouts. Tubby thundered behind, arms out stretched and lips pursed out like a goldfish.
Then the terrible Tubby ran out of steam. He stood at a corner yelling, "LUDO, LUDO,LUDO!"
A wee woman came out to sweep her front step and said, "Ah, they don't want to play ludo with you son, why don't you go home and if you're bored, well, you can always watch TV, read a book, play scrabble, or run at the wall with your head. My husband, wee Sammy, God rest him, used to run at the wall with his head when he was bored. Aye, he died with a fractured skull up in the Royal".
There's a moral there somewhere, but I can't see it, probably keep away from big trousers.
(After that, you will be looking for something intellectual, why not go to......
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