Trouble At Pass

Hey Kid, the absence of great shows on Monday and Tuesday called much consternation to myself and Tommy my cat. How would we pass the time? Would we, could we, listen to Mr Coyle? Aye, there was the rub a-dub-dub. We decided to flip a coin, but coins of the realm, we had none. Then Tommy decided to flip a pancake, but it stuck to the ceiling. I tried to flip a wardrobe but it was too heavy. Tommy flipped a small, Norwegian dwarf with a comb-over, but, as he flew up in the air, we suddenly discovered he had no tails! After flipping armchairs, washing machines and a 42 inch plasma TV, we were knackered. Tommy staggered over to the radio and switched on Sean Coyle just in time to hear, "Well, that's all from me. It only remains for me to pick up the ball and take the teams of the pitch."

In a fury, I picked up Tommy and flipped him out the door and into the path of a non singing nun on a pogo stick. The cutbacks at the Vatican are really beginning to bite.

As I walked by the abode of Tubby Nolan, I was seized with an irrepressible desire to feast my eyes on the Fat Boy. Acting on impulse, which I had sprayed under both oxters, I tip-toed up to the large bay window. And there was Tubby, down on his knees at the bottom of the stairs. The oval one was wearing jeans and a soup stained T-shirt. He looked like an inflated Marlon Brando. Tubby looked up the stairs, threw back his head and roared, "STENNA! STENNA!. STENNA!"

Then I heard his mum, big Audrey, say, "Send down that chair lift for God's sake, or our Steven will never get to the bathroom."

Before making my way home, I lay in the lupins and laughed.

Later that night as I lay in my hammock watching, "Strictly Newsnight", I heard a knock on the door. It was Matt Baggott. It was the first time I'd seen him, but he seems like a nice boy. "Come in Matt lad," I said. "I've just put kettle on. Would you like a nice cup of boiling hot water?"

"NAY," said Matt, "I won't take my coat off, 'cause I ain't stopping. Eeeh by gum, I'm run off my feet. I haven't had time to stick ferret down front of trousers."

"What emergency bring you out at this time of night Matt" I said. "Is Sean Coyle on the roofs again?"

"Nay, Nay." said Matt. "There's trouble at pass. Aye, trouble at Sydenham by-pass. Tubby Nolan and Eamon Holmes have caused a traffic jam. The two lads are standing in middle of road, by gum, arguing about how much jam should be in a jam roly-poly. But don't thee worry chuck, two low-loaders are on the way and traffic will soon be flowing again."

"Nolan needs locking up!" I yelled. "Do you hear me mother--I mean-Matt. Nolan needs locking up."

"Aye, I know chuck," said Matt. "But we haven't got a cell big enough."

"Well, I'll go to foot of our stairs!" I yelled.

"Don't bother pet," said Matt. "I've just came from there!"

All this and more have I seen, as Mark Carruthers and a representative of the Pope fought over the last pair of red socks in Willie McCrea's clerical supply stores.

"Tut-tut!" said a crowd of hoodies at the corner. "What an example to the young and socially deprived!"