TOO MANY LETTERS

Great shows this week Kid. What a lot we learned about Mr Coyle this week. Apparently Thaddeaus hates, sperm whales, swash buckling, Russel Crow and the house of the rising sun! Then he had the brass neck to try and rewrite history, by stating he was never on the roof of Rossville flats. Well, who was the black clad ninja figure who leaped from roof to roof, Joseph Locke? I think not. It was Mr Coyle, urging his fellow rioters to aim the stones at the security forces' shins. Mr Coyle was a folk hero in Stroke city. He was known as, "Raging Tiger" to his many followers. Now, he wants to deny his involvement because he was not made Minister for litter and dog poo up in Stormont. Shame I say. Shame on a man who would betray his past, to ensure he does not get thrown out of the golf club. Some may call him Sean, others Mr Coyle or Coylers, but to me, he will always be, "Raging Tiger", the scourge of the Bogside and surrounding districts.

There were five of us round the table, me, Tommy my cat, Jim Rodgers, Tubby Nolan and Lynda Byrons. Tommy banged a wooden spoon on the table and roared, "Order! Order! I now call this meeting to order. There is just one item on the agenda, and that is, what do we think of the new Chief constable of police, Matt Baggott?"

The lovely Lynda Byrons raised her little hand and said, "Mike and I would like to know what his policy will be regarding hens, roosters and free range eggs?"

"Hear! Hear!" screamed Jim Rodgers.

"Where? Where?" roared Tubby Nolan.

"ORDER! ORDER!" yelled Tommy. "The chair recognises woman with cat."

I got to my feet, raised an arm that was hanging by my side in the air and roared, "Three score years and ten make seventy, but that has nothing to do with what we are discussing tonight. I have a dream," I roared, "when the people will eat cake, go the extra mile and yell from the barricades, I too am a bell ringer. The lights," I yelled, "the lights are going out all over Europe as people go to bed! The dogs of war have been unleashed and all I can offer you is blood, sweat and tears. Give us the tools," I yelled, "and we will finish the job and men, not yet born will say, this was their finest hour."

I sat down to a stunned silence. I thought I heard Lynda Byrons mutter-"Bird brain."

"Nigh-Nigh-NIGH!" screamed Jim Rodgers, "what I want to know is why the new chief Constable is named after a street in-DUBLIN!"

It was Tubby Nolan who put his finger on it. Lynda looked away disgusted as Tubby yelled,

"Why does the new peeler have two G's and two T's in his name?"

"Good point," screamed Jim Rodgers. "On behalf of the Unionist people, I demand we strip him of one G, because that G could very well stand for-GREEN!"

"ORDER! ORDER!" yelled Tommy. "In order to preserve parity of esteem, if you take a G for the Unionists, I must give a T to the shinners, because T could stand for-TENSE. As in, The situation was-tense".

So there you have it, Baggott will now be known as Bagot and a ministry of chooks will be set up to please Lynda Byrons.

Now a bit of breaking news.

A pieman carrying 20 hot pies on his head, was mugged just outside Nolan Manors on the Malone Road. Police are looking for a slabberer who yelled, "Give me them pies-bucket bake!"

Police say they do have a suspect, but are waiting for a low-loader before arresting him.

All this and more have I seen in Ann Summers, as Julian Symmons was heard to shriek, "30 quid for them little things darling! Frankly, my dear, I'd rather go commando!"

IT'S A MAN'S LIFE IN THE COMMANDOS. Join NIGH!!!

"Who will be the first to scrawl

Baggott the maggot on a gable wall?

Sheamus

Heaney

Available for weddings, wakes and stag nights.