A New Week

Ten o'clock found me and Tommy my cat sitting on two burros, rented from Agnew's Mercedes Ltd.waiting for another week of great shows. Both burros had been offered the option of carrot or stick and both had opted for the carrot. So I can say in all honesty that there was no friction or disagreement in the quartet of woman, cat and two burros. It was a harmonious group of eccentric creations of God that waited the start of the Gerry Anderson show. I took off my cowboy hat, wiped the sweat from my brow, squinted into the far horizon of the scullery door and said to Tommy my cat, "Tommy my old compadre, what hopes, wishes and indeed desires do you have for the great shows we are about to partake of this week?" Tommy spit a glob of tobacco juice between the burro's ears and replied--laconically, "I have a hunch, a feeling in my water, a premonition, call it what you will, that the petrol can man will make another appearance today." I showed my surprise by emitting a yell of. "YIKES! Tommy!" I cried, "Don't tease me, don't play with me. Oh if only the petrol can man came on again, it would be like all my Christmases, birthdays and Pan-Cake Tuesdays rolled into one." "The petrol can man has been keeping a low profile," said Tommy. "He is probably a loner, yet gives no outward sign to the public about his secret abnormal perversions for-petrol cans." "He could be as normal looking as any man on the street!" I yelled. "Exactly!" said Tommy. "But I feel this Summer heat will make him try again. He can't help himself. He is addicted to petrol cans and-today, he could break cover and enlist Gerry in his never-ending quest for petrol cans.""We must block the airports, the railway stations, the roads, the-chimneys!" I yelled. "Sir Hugh Orde is on to it," said Tommy. "I was talking to him last night at an all night Ann Summer's knicker bonanza and he looked me straight in my slitted eye and said, "Evening Tommy. Mind how you go. If chummy tries anything tomorrow, my officers will nab him before you can say, " It's a fair cop Guv." Mind you, I could do with a helicopter."

At lunch time, Tommy and I went out into the searing heat and fried two eggs on a man's bald head. The alluring taste of dandruff, greatly added to the over all taste of the fried ova. In the afternoon I went round to Tubby Nolan's house to feed his giant, flesh eating Venus fly trap. The gluttonous plant nearly took the hand off me as I rammed 6 pounds of special mince down its hungry gullet. I could imagine Tubby and the fly trap arguing about the last packet of prawn cocktail crisps. They say men get to look like their dogs, well tubby is the dead spit of the Venus fly trap--all mouth! I had a little peep in Tubby's drawers. I found a "To Do" list which read thus, Get hair cut. Get all forks on trousers reinforced with sheets of corrugated iron. Hire man to put my shoes and socks on. Ask for--NO! demand raise from BBC, or threaten to go to UTV. Go on internet and try to find a po with a 60 inch circumference. And finally, think up fly things to say to Anderson during hand over.

All this and more have I seen as Lynda Byrons grabbed me in a headlock and threw me out of her bedroom AGAIN! But like I told Lynda before, I was just in there to see the woodchip wall paper. Did she believe me? Did she heck as like!!!