Lost and Gone

Great show yesterday Kid. Tommy and I listened to the great show wearing sack cloth and ashes, because we knew Friday was hurtling towards us like an asteroid from darkest space. Tommy my cat bit my nails and cried,
"What shall we do when Gerry goes away? Who shall give us refuge? No one else shares our sense of humour, which is warped, twisted and zany in the extreme."
I broke a bottle of Iron Brue over my head and yelled,
"I name this tube sad, forlorn and pathetic."
"And we don't even have a saying to comfort us," said Tommy. "When other people lose a loved one they say,
"Well, he had a good life. He didn't suffer or, that's the end of that!"
"I saw a film once," I said.
"Did you by jingo?" said Tommy.
"Yes, I did by jingo," I said. "And in that film was a saying that may help you and me get over our great loss. At one point in the film, all God's children fell into the pit of hell and God looked straight into the camera, like Michael Caine does in Alfie, and God said,
"Lost and-gone."
Tommy slapped his scrawny thigh and cried,
"I like it. We shall make that saying our own."
"Lost and-gone," I said sadly.
"Lost and-gone," said Tommy with a tear in his eye.
"Lost and-gone," I said with a trembling lip.
"LOST AND-GONE!" screamed Tommy and I together and we both fell down in a sodden, blubbering heap.
Not one crumb of bread was eaten in our house yesterday. Tommy and I rent our garments, paced the floor and yelled, shrieked and guldered,
"LOST AND-GONE!"
Later that night as we lay beside our hammocks Tommy said,
"So, he who shall not be named is standing in for two weeks?"
"I threw a rat at my shoe which was sitting squeaking beside the door and replied,
"Two weeks and ONE DAY!!!!"
"GOTT in Himmel!" screamed Tommy."Sacre Bleu and that's tarra. How shall we pass the time?"
I sat up in my filthy scratcher and yelled,
"WE GO TO--LONDON!"
"LONDON?" cried Tommy."Home of Big Ben and little Amy Winehouse?"
"YES!" I cried. We shall have some fun in London. I know a man who lives in number 10Downing Street. This man is the Mr Doherty of London. He is a very angry man. If we knock on the door of number 10 every night, this angry man will chase us all through London."
"Brilliant!" yelled Tommy. "Second only to the Gerry show, my favourite thing to do is to knock on the doors of angry men and then run away. Are you sure the man who lives in number 10 Downing Street is a very angry man?"
"Oh yes," I said. "The man who lives in number 10 Downing Street is a VERY angry man. He will race us through Cheapside bellowing,
"Gang a wah, yeh wee scunners. If I catch you I will pull doon yer bonny, wee breeks and spank your bonny, wee backsides."
AH!" said Tommy. "The angry man is a cockney!"
LOST AND-GONE.
LOST AND-GONE.
LOST AND-GONE!
But he who is lost shall be found and shall reign for all eternity. And the people will sing as they dance to the vineyards. "Amen, Amen, I say onto you, He who was lost has been found. And the wicked angel who reigned for two weeks and ONE day has been banished into eternal darkness to sport and play with the foul, black blind bat!"
Come on people, give Sean a chance. Don't greet him on Friday with, "GET BACK YEH BOY YEH!"