The Reality's Gone. Time For Change.

The minute I heard the news,I cycled into the living room, frantically ringing the bell. I picked Tommy my cat up with the tongs, well you never know where he's been, and sat him down in a Queen Ann chair made by Ikea.
I stood in front of Tommy, rolled my eyes, wiggled my ears, lifted my left leg high in the air and yelled,
"THE KING IS DEAD, LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!"
"YIPPEE!" yelled Tommy. "But wait a minute, stall the wedding, that means no more-reality."
"Quite right my fine feathered chum," I said. "Mark Durkin has gone and with him has gone-reality."
"So there's no more-reality?" asked Tommy.
"Not a speck, spot or smidgen," I said. "Before he left, Mark Durkin gathered up every last ounce of reality, packed it into a big suitcase, kicked the SDLP cat and roared, "The reality is, that I have gone and I have taken all the reality that-is with me."
"Well bend me over and paddle my rear with a goose feather," said Tommy.
"Margaret Ritchie," I yelled, "is the queen of the Silver Dollar and the new queen of the SDLP!"
"What are dear Margaret's policies?" asked Tommy.
"Margaret, or Madge," I said, "does not have a policy, but she does have an agenda."
"Ooh, get her!" said Tommy. "A policy is not good enough for our Marge! SHE has to spend tax payers' money on a fancy, designer-agenda. And what is, Madge's-agenda?" yelled Tommy.
"An agenda for-change!" I cried.
"For--WHAT?" yelled Tommy.
"CHANGE!" I cried. "Margaret Ritchie has an agenda for radical, root and branch-CHANGE. Margaret will not shilly-shally, or dilly-dally on the way. Margaret will not tinker round the edges. Margaret will not rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic. Margaret Ritchie will get right into the core of the SDLP and affect-CHANGE, as only a 51 year old woman, wearing glasses, can. At the end of the SDLP conference, which was held in a telephone box, Margaret Ritchie got to her high heeled shoes and brought the delegates to their feet by shrieking, "GO HOME. AYE, GO HOME AND PREPARE FOR-CHANGE!"
"So," said Tommy, "change is afoot."
"Change is the order of the day," I cried. "Martina Purdy and Ken Reid are all a quiver. Ken Reid said in his last broadcast,
"Well, there you have it Paul. Margaret Ritchie has promised change. But as to what sort of change, well, we'll just have to wait and see."
And Martina Purdy said,
"I get the feeling, guys, that this broad really means business."
Tommy stared into the fire and said,
"I don't know what to think. I like-change, but I shall miss-reality. You knew where you were with-reality."
After a lunch of hump-backed whale plankton, which you can get in any supermarket or barber's shop, Tommy and I changed into two little, red riding hood costumes, packed two wickerwork baskets with food and skipped through Belfast merrily singing,
"OH, WE'RE OFF TO SEE THE TUBBY
WHO EATS ALL HIS MEALS WITH HIS PAWS."
We found Steven Nolan in his garden, trying to wind up his sundial.
"Ah,food!" yelled the oval one. "What have you brought me, my pretties?"
I whipped the cloth from my basket and yelled, "I have brought you-lard in many shapes and forms. I have frozen lard, semi-frozen lard, liquid lard and lard on a stick, so handy when you need a quick lard high."
Tommy yelled, "Being something of a copycat, I too have brought you-lard. In my basket I have Norwegian lard, Papua-new Guinea lard, Ballymena lard and Scottish lard. The Scottish lard comes from Clydeside and was used to grease the slipway when gigantic ocean liners were being launched."
"From launch to-lunch," giggled Tubby. "Throw all the lard on the grass!" leered Tubby, "and I will gobble it up like a wild boar."
I took my life in my hands and said, "Many people say you are a wild bore on the Nolan show."
The fat boy never heard me. He was too busy down on his hands and knees, rooting up the garden in his quest for life-giving-lard.
Tommy and I stood by hoping for truffles, but all the fat boy dug up was trifles. jam jar tops, old biscuit tins, empty rusty tins of Spam and a lovely shiny brass World War Two shell. But, on closer inspection, it was a pacifist shell. It didn't have any one's name written on it. Tubby is going to use the shell as a door stop.
Imagine the fall out if Tubby Nolan explodes and detonates the shell!
On that day, a hard rain's gonna fall!