Death is no excuse.

Great show yesterday Kid. After the great show Tommy my cat and I leapt to our feet.
MORE!" I yelled.
"ENCORE!" cried Tommy.
"MORE!" I roared. "MORE!"
But Wendy Austin completely blanked Tommy and me and let loose her pips on an unsuspecting public. I looked at Tommy with the use of vision and communicated with the feline by speech.
"Tommy," I said,"is it not convivial in the extreme, to sit with pleasant company in condemned surroundings,eating Danish pastry,drinking Indian tea out of china cups and listening to a top notch impersonator sing like Marty Robbins?"
Tommy gave the fire a poke with an old stick of dynamite we keep for the purpose and responded
"Marty Robbins? Sounded more like "Bug-Eyed" Marty Feldman to me."
"Marty Feldman was a comic genius," I said, "but we never see him on TV anymore,not even on reality shows. Why is that Tommy?"
Tommy went into his Reginald B Hunter routine and said,
"'Cause he dead."
"That's no excuse!" I shouted. "John McCririck and Vanesa Feltz can still make the effort. Why not Marty Feldman?"
"'Cause he be dead longer than other folks,"said Tommy.
As the day wore slowly on,I went to my room to count my secret pile of dust. 34,760,751 specs of dust I have. One spec at a time I built up my hoard.
I lit a penny candle and sat there-gloating,as recommended in Frankie Boyle's new book, "How To Gloat With Glee", one of the best books I ever nicked out of Eason's.
In the afternoon,I went round Belfast dressed as the tooth fairy. I would go up to people,knock out their teeth with a punch and then give them 10 pence. Oh what joy I brought to so many toothless mouths. Later, filled with artistic fervour, I went up to my attic to try and capture the rare, terrible beauty of Tubby Nolan in the nude. Charcoal was my weapon of choice. I stood back to admire my drawing. It was good, but it was not right. The drawing lacked something,but I could not put my finger on it. Just then Tommy called me down for tea. As I speared a cocktail sausage with my fork I cried,
"EUREKA! I HAVE FOUND IT!" And I ran pell mell up the stairs to finish my drawing. NOW! the drawing was complete. And though I say it myself, was on a par with the man who sang like Marty Robbins.
Tubby's drawing is hanging in the John Hewitt bar. Many strange people come to view it. I have called the masterpiece, "NUDE WITH HOTDOG."