Flies on the wall.

What a great show yesterday Kid. Tommy my cat had just time to mutter, "For the great show we are about to receive today, may the Lord make us truly thankful."

Then you got stuck into Tubby Nolan and the fly ones were bouncing off the walls like brandy balls, the striped brandy balls, which Tommy and I love with a passion so intense, it's frightening.

Tommy and I giggled, elbowed each other in the ribs and pulled faces that would get any sane man confined to Broad moor. After the show, Tommy wiped the tears from his eyes with a pair of knickers he had found on our garden gnome's head this morning. Probably some sane, sober, woman, had decided to pull a little prank last night on her way home from her house of worship. And why not, I say.?

Did not a singer, or it may have been a kennel maid sing. "Life gets tedious don't it?"

After the show, Tommy dug a hole behind the sofa, lined it with mallard feathers and snuggled into it.

I, on the other hand, tied a rope to my left ankle. The rope was attached to a pulley on the ceiling. I pulled myself up by the left ankle, tied a granny Smith knot and swung gently, while the band played, Waltzing Matilda.

After a period of silence, lasting 18 hours and 19 minutes Tommy said, "I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall."

"A fly on the wall-where?" I yelled from the ceiling.

" A fly on the wall in Saint Elmo's church hall," said Tommy.

"Why?" I said. "What is going on in Saint Elmo's church hall?"

"A meeting," said Tommy, "A great big meeting."

"Who or Whom is holding this meeting?" I yelled.

"The F.G.M.B." said Tommy.

"Who in the name of Edwin Poot's IQ is the F.G.M.B.?" I yelled.

"It's a union," yelled Tommy, "the National Amalgamated Union of Flies, Gnats, Midges and Bluebottles!"

"A very reputable union" I roared.

"What do they want? More pay or shorter hours?"

"Neither!" yelled Tommy. "They want to save the planet. The F.G.M.B. insist that the spray from pest killers destroys the ozone layer and doesn't do them much good either."

In the time it takes to shave a donkey Tommy and I were marching round Stormont, carrying banners which read,

"FLIES IS PEOPLE TOO!"

And, "YOU'RE NEVER ALONE WITH A BLUEBOTTLE!"

Round and round Stormont we marched, until a very red faced, Sammy Wilson, came storming out and sprayed us with DDT.

"Hop it," roared Sammy, "you couple of chancers!"

But Tommy got the last laugh. He stood in the middle of the road and yelled, "Hi, wee Sammy, go and get your hair cut."

"Let's see how he likes them apples," sniggered Tommy.

"You fixed his wagon Tommy," I chortled. "You fixed his wagon, but good!"

All this and more have I seen, as Frank Mitchell crawled out of a rabbit hole. He was testing out the ten best ferrets in Ulster. I will say no more! Frank knows my feelings. On his own head be it, but it's all going to end in tears.