The Reality is Changing.

Great show yesterday Kid. Margaret Ritchie the Eva Peron of the SDLP, put CHANGE on the back burner and sat listening to the great show with a cup of coffee in one hand and a packet of custard creams in the other. When the show was over, she turned off the radio by hitting it repeatedly with a bronze bust of Mark Durkin and then got stuck into-CHANGE! Margaret opened a dictionary, looked up the word-CHANGE and said to an aide who was drinking lemonade,
"CHANGE.-- To alter or make different. Well I'll go to the foot of John Hume's Stenna stairlift."
A knock on the door gave me a funny feeling that someone might be standing there wishing to speak with me. Something similar had happened way back in 1969.
I opened the door with a trembling handm clutching a trembling key.
YIKES! Mark Durkan stood there. But what a CHANGE had come over little Marcus. He was distressed, dishevelled and discharged from the SDLP. He stood there in his blue demob suit and said,
"Hello wee woman. My name is Mark Durkin and I am selling reality from door to door. In this battered suitcase I have reality to suit all occasions,a wedding coming up perhaps, the loss of a dear one, passing the driving test, or just a private dinner with a few close friends. Whatever the occasion, let me supply you with-reality and assure you that all my reality-is."
"Mark," I said, "look at you! How did you escape from home? Is there anyone with you to look after you?"
The reality is, that a tear came to Mark's eye and he whispered,
"The reality is, I used to have friends but they all deserted me."
"How are you going to get home Mark?" I asked.
He gave a little bitter smile and replied,,
"The reality is, at one time anywhere I hung my hat was home, but the sad reality is, that Sinn Fein stole my hat and now I am homeless. The Shinners stole my clothes!" screamed Mark. "The Shinners stole all my clothes! The reality is, that you see before you today, a man devoid of political policies, a man without an agenda and a man without a job."
"Margaret Ritchie is going for CHANGE," I said.
"CHANGE my --Arsenal shirt!" yelled Mark. "The reality is, this is Norn Iron and nothing every CHANGES here."
I watched sadly as he trudged slowly away, reduced to hawking reality from door to door. How different from the man who, just 11 years ago, had smiled up into President Clinton's face at a Saint Patrick's day reception in the White House and said of Monica Lewinsky,
"The reality is, Bill, I wouldn't have kicked her out of bed either."
As Mark trudged off he was singing,
"The reality is, nobody wants to know you, when you're down and out."
Tommy my cat looked at me, made a face and said,
"Poor Mark, his singing is so out of tune. It pains me to say it, but the reality is, Mark didn't nail it."
AH!-Reality! You are the snipe of life. Always crying. Forever crying. Take it away! Take away-reality. AH! THE SNIPE! THE SNIPE! THE SNIPE OF LIFE! PLEASE RELEASE ME, LET ME-GO!
AAAAAH!. THE SNIPE! THE DREADED-SNIPE!!!!!