In Search Of Spangles

Great show yesterday Kid. What a pity it was marred by the animalistic,corner boy, saloon bar, guldering and roaring of Mr Coyle. Did the mask slip? Did the people hear, in full volume the real Mr Coyle? Great harm was done to young children, pregnant women and those with a nervous disposition. Mr Coyle may have cause to gulder and roar when the dry cleaning bills come flooding in.
Tommy my cat was disgusted and has written to the BBC. Tommy said if he ever sees Mr Coyle sneaking around an Ann Summer's shop again, he will refuse to speak to him.
Martina Purdy, speaking to a big cheese in the BBC said,
"Hey guy, is it true you're gonna muzzle Coyle the redneck?"
And the big cheese said,
"We are ruling nothing out and ruling nothing in."
Ken Reid said in his report,
"Well Paul, the big question people are asking is,"Is this the end of Mr Coyle?" And the answer is, "It's just too early to know." Oh Paul, ask Lynda Byrons if she took a packet of Polos out of my coat pocket? I was standing like a tube up at Hillsborough and I didn't have a thing to suck."
Is it just me or is Hugo Duncan getting smaller? Yesterday, Strabane's finest, walked right between my legs, and he didn't even ring the bell!
"Hey, Nashville," I drawled, "Where you off to, Hoss, in such a gosh-durned hurry?"
"I'm in a wild hurry, so I am," said Hugo, in fluent Tyrone.
"I'm looking for spangles and I can't find them anywhere."
"You won't find Spangles sweets in this town friend," I drawled. "Spangles up and died and are buried in Boot Hill."
"I don't mean spangles the wee sweeties," said Hugo. "I mean the spangles that you stick to shirts to make them look country 'n' western. I want to look like Hank Williams and the other boy, oh what do you call him?"
"Kenneth Williams?" I drawled. "Listen kid, I took a hankering to you. I happen to know that boss Hogg, or Tubby Nolan as he is better known, used to put spangles round the fork of his gigantic Y-fronts. Let's mosey up to the Nolan ranch, the lazy tube and see how grizzly Adams is doing."
"NO!" yelled Tubby. "I have NO spangles. It is true that I used to decorate the fork of my Y-fronts with spangles. But one night I was taken short and had to relieve myself at the side of the road. It was a very dark night and when on-coming cars saw the reflection of my forkal spangles, they though it was cats' eyes and drove right into a hedge. Sir Hugh Orde at the time was raging and said I could be nicked for decorating a fork without due care and attention."
But I saw little Hugo all right. I took the petit Strabaner to Ann Summers and they fitted him out with some wee sparkly tops. Hugo also bought a pair of green, glow-in- the dark knickers. I don't know how they'll go down in Nashville when the lights go out as Hugo is singing
"The Pretty Little Girl From Omagh"
I suppose, don't ask, don't tell is the best policy.
YEH-HAW!!!