Tommy and the election.

What great shows Gerry is putting out this week!" I said to Tommy my cat. "You're so right," said Tommy, as he arose daintily from his bubble bath in front of a roaring fire. "Ah, the luxury of a bubble bath!" said Tommy. "I feel pretty and witty and....."

"Hold on there Kid," I said. "All these bubble baths you've been having, the new cravat and the tangerine shorts. Do you not think it's a bit, you know--fey?"

"Not at tall," said Tommy, wrapping himself in a primrose yellow bathrobe. "You may think it's perfectly natural to go about smelling like an old sheep, but I don't. Mummy always said to us kittens, "Cleanliness is next to godliness and Paul Daniels is next to the lovely Debbie McGee. By the bye," said Tommy, "Did you do anything with that radio? It's so clear, no background noise of any kind." "That's because Mr Coyle is away on holiday," I said. "Yes, Coylers is walking around Spain wearing a pair of World war two desert rats khaki shorts down to his knees and a knotted handkerchief on his head." "A real babe magnet," said Tommy with a giggle. "Yes," I laughed "The only thing Thaddeus will pick up in Spain is sweetie papers and chewing gum from the pavements." Oh how we laughed. Tommy cleaned out his ears with a blue Bic pen and said, "The DUP got a bit of a mauling at the recent election." "Indeed they did," I answered. "Their share of the vote, like Sammy Wilson's trousers was down." "Could Sir Reg Empty be on the way up?" said Tommy, as he blew the fluff out of his navel with Henry the hoover." "Don't write off little Reg," I said. "Little Reg is a stayer, a battler. Little Reg is an old dog and it takes an old dog for the hard road. People used to call little Reg, Joe Ninety and the Milky Bar Kid, well, they don't call him that now. Now they call Sir Reg the come back kid." Tommy looked all around and whispered, "Sinn Fein topped the poll for the first time." "They did," I said, "And it's all the fault of Mark Durkin. You remember Mark Durkin? He was the SDLP guy who kept going on about the reality-is, instead of telling the people want they want to hear."

"How would you describe Jim Allister said Tommy?" "Jim Allister," I said, "Has all the qualities of a bulldog or a pitbull, but he doesn't foul in the street."

"Which is always an advantage," said Tommy, "When you're running for high office." "Tommy," I said, "I have never asked you before, who is your favourite politician in Great Britain?" "Easy," said Tommy. "Little dumpy Hazel Blears. She's like one of those little dolls that you knock down and they always jump up again. Who is your favourite politician?" said Tommy. I mounted my soap box and cried, "Lemsip Opec, he's the man for me. He believes in flying saucers, Santa Claus and the tooth fairy. He also believes that the world is flat and often goes round the country yelling, "ONE MAN ONE CHEEKY GIRL and of course Lemsip is-Liberal." "I wonder if Lemsip is liberal in the sack," said Tommy with a loathsome horrible leer.

"GET OUT!" I roared. "You may well smell of lavender and primroses, but your heart is as black as pitch. GET OUT! and wash your mouth out with lifebuoy soap, you filthy little feline."

All this and more have I seen from a beach in sunny Spain, as Mr Coyle walks among bikini clad girls, wearing a long trench coat and singing lustily. "Nearer my God to thee."