IT'S THE TWINS!

Great show yesterday Kid, in spite of all the rain. But, as Tommy my cat says, the rain will help bring on the rice harvest round Ballymena and Cullybaccy.

Tommy, my cat,looked at me from the anvil where he was shoeing a small, redhaired, Brazilian dwarf and said, "What the Sam Hill blazes was Mr Coyle playing at yesterday? It took him fifteen minutes to set up a scene between, Joe Mahon, the Dungarvin car salesman and Wendy Austin. Then, thirty seconds into the sketch, Mr Coyle heads off over the hills, leaving Gerry to do the Dungarvin car salesman AND Wendy Austin." I opened a tin of baked beans with a small piece of plastic explosive and said, "No one, not even Gerry, can do Wendy Austin. I don't think there is anybody in the world who could do a good Wendy Austin."

"What about-Wendy Austin?" said Tommy, as he hit the small redhaired Brazilian dwarf a slap on the rump and cantered him round the room to try out his new shoes.

"Wendy Austin?" I cried. "Don't make me laugh. Wendy Austin can do a good Sharon Stone, a very good Sharon Stone, especially when she sits on a chair, but Wendy Austin talk like Wendy Austin? Catch yourself on Kid. You must be going soft in the noggin."

Suitably chastened, Tommy leaped on the small, red haired, Brazilian dwarf's back and took him for a gallop round the block. "Hi-Ho Ginger!" cried Tommy and the small, petite, Brazilian gentleman took off like a scalded catholic.

After a light lunch consisting of fish heads, pony tails and Bird's custard, I donned Jane Austin bonnet, Doc Martin boots and began my search for he who answers to the name of Tubby Nolan. I found Tubby in the park. The portly one was lying on a lilo eating the stale bread that had been thrown to the ducks.

"Steven!" I yelled. "Are you quackers? Come out of there before you get ducks' disease."

Lard Boy waded ashore, with minnows spilling out of the large fork on his massive trousers.

"Steve," I said, "lovely jubbly Steve, the word in the hood is, that you are going to dye your hair."

"Yes I am," growled Tubby, "after what happened yesterday. Eamon Holmes and I were standing outside a doughnut shop, then that slabber from Tyrone, Pio McCann, came round the corner and screamed, "THE TWINS! It's THE TWINS, THE TWINS, THE TWINS!!!"

All this and more have I seen as Wendy Austin strapped the Pips into her Renault people carrier and drove away full of pride, Red Bull and Quakers Oats.