I Never Saw It Coming!

Another week of great shows Kid, aided and abetted by Mr Coyle, who spent all last night baying at the moon. It's a lonely job baying at the moon, but when a man's gotta' bay, a man's gotta' bay.
Tommy my cat sat crouched up in a ball in the corner shivering.
"What a week," whispered Tommy, "what a week for earth shattering news. I never saw it coming. Did you?"
"Never had a clue," I whispered back."I mean, everything looked so-normal."
"I know," said Tommy. "There was no clue, no-inkling, no--predictability or predisposition. It just came out of the blue!"
"These things always do," I said. "But what's done is done and can not be-undone. We must carry on, pick up the pieces and-carry on. That's what HE would want."
"I'm not sure I can," said Tommy. "My feline world has been shattered, like one of Lynda Byron's eggs falling from a great height. I feel-empty and in a way-betrayed."
"We all do Kid," I replied. "But Jonathon Ross has left the BBC and we will just have to get used to the idea."
Tommy pondered, kicked a recumbent Romanian dwarf with his wee toe and said,
"It's not as if he were any good in the first place."
"RUBBISH!" I yelled. "Jonathon Ross was-Rubbish. And any man who can not pronounce his own surname, should not be allowed near any institution that the venerable Lord Reith was involved in."
"HERE! HERE!" cried Tommy
"WHERE? WHERE?" I yelled.
"HERE!" cried Tommy, pointing to a plate of toast and scrambled eggs. "Sit down you weird old creature and tuck in."
I tasted the scrambled egg and cried-erotically, "YUM!, Just like Lynda Byrons makes them!"
As my house got colder and colder. I yelled, "Shackleton" picked up a shovel and dug my way out. Belfast looked like Russia. Cold, ice, snow and Baggott's boys nicking people and carting them off to the nearest Gulag. As I rounded a corner, I saw Tubby Nolan deep in conversation with a wheelie-bin.
"Hoi! you muppet!" I yelled. "You're well out of order. What you doing talking to a wheelie-bin?"
"Do you mind?" roared Tubby. "Do you not see I'm talking to my good showbiz chum Eamon Holmes?"
"That ain't Eamon Holmes," I yelled. "You is talking to a wheelie-bin, you muppet."
"Crikey!" cried Tubby. "I wondered why Eamon was so quiet"
I grabbed Tubby by his little Sony and dragged him to an optimistic optician.
"Hey!" I roared. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Test this Tubby's eyesight."
There was no messing about with the optician. He grabbed Tubby by the scruff of the neck, gave him a riser and yelled, "Read the letters on that chart."
Tubby squinted at the chart. Then a big smile appeared on his face and the fat one yelled,"Hey! I know this guy. He did all the plumbing at my new house."
Save the planet. Recycle an old joke today!
Knock. Knock.
"Who's there?"
"Tubby"
"Tubby who?"
"How soon they forget!"
Knock.Knock.
Who's there?
Iris.
Iris Who?
Iris Robinson.
In the name of God, Willie John, hide all the money and our big lump of a cub.
"Here's to you Missus Robinson. Jesus loves you more than a cup of tay. Hey-Hey-Hey!"