Search for New Characters

Tommy my cat sat atop a plastic replica of an Easter island statue. He held his breath until his face turned purple. Tommy was pretending to be a Catawba,which even the winos in the street know, is an American variety of grape. Any fool will tell you that the Latin name for Catawba is Vitis labrusca.

The Catawba grape, as any child will inform you, is found growing around the river Catawba in Carolina.

Tommy took a deep breath, which removed all resemblance to the catawba grape and said, "I wonder what great shows Gerry has in store for us this week?"

I climbed out of the 60 foot hole I had been squatting in and replied-merrily, "I heard from Marvin Gaye on the grapevine, that Gerry is holding auditions for new characters for the show."

"Well, bend me over and spank me!" cried Tommy.

"Sit down on that burlap sack of razor blades lad," I said, "and I will tell you a story. Once upon a time, the Gerry show had THREE characters."

"Eeeh!" cried Tommy. "I'm gonna lay down my burden,down by the riverside, by gum."

"One character sadly passed away," I said. "And another character, by the name of Michael, got too big for his gutties. He thought he was bigger than the show and was thrown into eternal darkness. ETERNAL DARKNESS!" I yelled. "Where the weeping and gnashing of teeth is tarra."

"Well don't that make my brown eyes blue," said Tommy.

"We are left with but ONE character!" I yelled. "And that character goes by the name of Jordie Tuft Esquire."

"A hard rain's gonna fall," said Tommy. "Frank Mitchell said so."

"ONE character to do the job of three!" I yelled. "Down at the Bricklands, Old Jordie is working day and night, forcing birds, mammals and animal to breed, so he can come on the Gerry show and announce, YET AGAIN! another birth."

"Well, fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars," said Tommy.

"We must ease old Jordie's burden!" I shrieked.

"Eeeh, by gum, if you see your brother standing by the road, with a heavy load," said Tommy.

"Exactly!" I yelled. "We need new characters before Jordie burns out."

"What about the petrol can man?" cried Tommy.

"Will you give over about the petrol can man!" I yelled.

"Where's our Eli?" said Tommy.

"I beg your pardon," I replied.

"Where's our Eli?" repeated Tommy.

"Get out!" I yelled. "Get out and never show your cats' whiskers in this house again."

"I can't find our Eli," said Tommy.

I grabbed my Basil Brush and raced the frivolous feline down the garden path.

As Tommy sprinted down the street, he broke wind with fierce ferocity and yelled back to me,

"Can you hear me mother?"

Listen Kid, I think the day of the amateur is gone. You need professional characters. May I suggest, Lynda Byrons, Sarah Travers and Maggie Taggart. They could be known as the Supremes and in time could form a very feminine quango.

Do I sense a little smile on Mr Coyle's unshaven face, as he daydreams about Maggie Taggart sitting on his ricket twisted, cotton picking knee?

All this and more have I seen as Frank Mitchell was carried from his home strapped to a stretcher, foaming at the mouth and yelling,

"The ten best darkened rooms in Ulster to lie down in!"

I knew it would end in tears!