Bulls and Boils

Great show yesterday Kid. It went a long way towards taking people's mind off the toppling of wee Sir Reg Empry. Why did he have to go? We will never see his like again! Never! Never! NEVER!!!
Tommy my cat laid down the Jewish Chronice, muttered, "Ah very" and yelled to me,
"Hi! Hi! Yes you with the reptilian features, what did Sean Coyle do to the bull at the Bamoral show?"
I sprinkled the house with holy water and replied,
"Never you mind. But suffice to say, had Thaddeaus done it in a Muslim country, the Imams would have cut off both his hands."
"In the name of all that's holy!" yelled Tommy. "Then why the-facade? Why the pretence that he is an honest,decent, human being, when he is skulking about interfering with bulls?"
"Why!" roared Tommy. "Mr Coyle is another Jordan, all front but no substance."
"Leave the lad alone," I said. "Everyone needs to have a hobby. If Mr Coyle wants to fondle bulls,that is between him and the farmers' union."
"I don't like it!" yelled Tommy.
"Then don't do it!" I roared.
"Leave that sort of thing to mono eye-brow. Mr Coyle has the hands for it, warm, soft hands, the kinds of hands that bulls appreciate."
Tommy yelled, "BULLY BEEF!" and strode over to the window, where he stood looking out,with his hands behind his back. I joined Tommy by simply walking over to him.
Dark was the sky. No sun shone. The street was deserted. The only sound came from a lean, hungry polar bear as he flipped open the lids of wheelie bins. Tommy did the splits, like the late, great James Brown and yelled,
"WOW! MAMMA, How long is this Icelandic volcanic ash going to go on for?"
"As long as it takes," I said. "A volcano is a boil on the face off the earth. The greatest brains in the world are working on it."
"Greatest brains, my olive, green, silk knickers!" screamed Tommy. "All they have to do, is cover the volcano with cement, like they did with Chernobyl."
"But Tommy," I interjected, "the volcano would blow again. The volcano needs some outlet to release the pressure.
Tommy clicked my fingers and cried,
"I've got it! Harland and Wolff must build a giant whistle, with TWO diagonal steam traps. The giant whistle will be inserted into the volcano and the volcano can sit up on the mountain, whistling away like Rodger Whittaker."
"Tommy" I yelled. "You are a geological genius."
"I know!" said Tommy. "And I haven't even had my cornflakes yet!"
Tommy and I stood silently at the window, looking out at the dark, dark day. The radio gave a chuckle and turned itself on. The entire house shook as big Brendan Bowyer shrieked,
"NO SUN SHALL SHINE BY DAY.
IT WAS THE NEW JERUSALEM THAT WOULD NOT FADE AWAY. IT WAS THE NEW JERUSALEM THAT WOULD NOT FADE AWAY.
JERUSALEM! JERUSALEM!"
What a racket! But it kept the polar bear away from MY wheelie bin!