WHERE HAS ALL THE MONEY GONE?

"COCK-A-DOODLE-DO!" cried the rooster. "Cock-a-doodle-NO!" I yelled, pulling the blankets over my head. "COCK-A-DOODLE-DO-NIGH!" cried the rooster. "Cock-a-doodle-your-ass!" I yelled. "COCK-A-DOODLE-DO!" cried the rooster. It was no good, I had to get up, but I got up with bad grace. How Grace got into my bed last night, I'll never know. She said she had an invite, but when pressed, couldn't produce it. Maybe she did. I remember sending out a bunch of invitations, inviting people to join me in bed. I searched under the blankets and the pillows, but no sign of Hugo Duncan. I suppose he thinks he's better that me now he's got the new false teeth. I sang as I dressed. "Giddy-up, giddy-up a ding dong!" I yelled as I stepped into my little black number. I just love that bin liner. I found it in a wheelie-bin on the Malone Road, so it's got class. Shoes, shoes, shoes, the same decision every morning, what shoes should I wear? I decided to compromise and slipped into a pink, 8 inch heel stiletto and a lime green wellington with the top rolled down. I stood at an angle, admiring myself in the mirror. "You got it girl!" I yelled to my reflection. "You don't need Trinny and Suzanna to tell you what to wear."I clamped a brown bonnet on my head, wrapped a West Ham football scarf round my gullet and I was ready. I tripped down the stairs like Maggie Poppins, the half sister of Mary singing merrily, "Hit me, hit me, hit me with your rhythm stick." I leapt over the banister yelling, "GERONIMO!" and burst into the living room and found my cat Tommy in a state of confusion, delusion, but devoid of any conclusion. Tommy was down on the floor on his hands and knees, shaking the money out of his piggy bank. There was a look of-madness in the feline, slitted eyes. "Tommy, Tommy!" I yelled. "What are you up too lad? Are you compos mentis? or are you in a state of do-lalliness, bordering on full blown, 24 caret, 100%-madness?" Tommy looked up, his eyes filled with horror and hissed,( he'll clean that up later), "I must get my life savings out of this bank," screamed Tommy. "Why Tommy?" I said. "Because this bank could go bust at anytime," shrieked Tommy. "Surely not," I said, "It looks like a good, strong substantial bank to me, made out of the strongest plastic." "You don't understand," screamed Tommy, "banks are falling like wino's on a Saturday night. American banks, UK banks, German banks and the last bank in Iceland fell during the night. Bank robbers, with guns are walking the streets, dazed and confused." "The poor wee doats," I said "I didn't know things were that bad. What can I do Tommy?" I shrieked. "What can I do to help? Tommy didn't answer, he pulled his hair out by the roots, rent his garments, kicked a poof and yelled, "Damn Freddie and Fanny, damn them I say." "Have Freddie and Fanny hurt my little Tommy?" I yelled. "Tell me where this Freddie and Fanny live and I'll go round there and punch them up the gub." "Freddie and Fanny are American banks," yelled Tommy. "They were the first banks to go bust and the rest followed like sheep." "But where did the money go Tommy?" I asked. "It-it-just disappeared," yelled Tommy. "No one knows where the money went. It went into a computer and never came out again." ""What is President Georgie Bush doing about all this?" I yelled, striking a Nelson pose. "George Bush, is acting like-George Bush," said Tommy. "What's the maverick doing," I cried. "What is old John McCain doing? He's a maverick, you know, surely he must be doing some mavericky things." "The maverick," yelled Tommy "is walking around in a daze, with a moose hunter from Alaska, calling everybody--my friend.". "Durn blast the hoggle-swoggle son of a gun from Arizona" I yelled. Tommy sat down and began to count his money, starting like every good mathematician with--"ONE." I paced the floor, banging one fist into the other. My eyes had a steely glint and my nose had a reddish hue. "It's all here" screamed Tommy, "its all here, every penny. I haven't been wiped out by the big crash." "How much did you have in the bank Tommy?" I said. "One pound and 87 pence," said Tommy and his little feline cheeks were glowing like apples. "Well done Tommy," I cried. "If you had another 13 pence, you would have even more money." "Put the TV on," yelled Tommy "put the TV on,.I want to laugh at the suckers who lost their shirts." Steven Nolan's great big face filled the plasma screen and the speakers vibrated as Tubby roared into the camera. "I lost it all, every penny I had. I lost my shirt, underpants and three pair of socks. I'm wiped out, I haven't even the price of a hamburger. And it's all down to Freddie and Fanny. I'm sorry for Freddie, but I should have known that tramp Fanny was a money grabbing harlot the way she pulled me up the stairs in Las Vegas." "Tommy killed himself laughing and chortled, "Fat boy not happy." "No indeedee" I said, "Fat boy not happy. Fat boy wiped out. Fat boy loose many spondulecks." Tommy and I sat watching as Steven "Tubby" Nolan sang into the camera with tears streaming down his massive face.
"No body know, da trouble I've seen
No body know my sorrow
No body know da trouble I've seen
By jeekers and begorragh."

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