A hurdle too far for some.

Great shows during election week Kid. Wasn't the election exciting? Just
like the grand national.
"THEY'RE OFF!" yelled Noel Thompson and for the next 15 hours,the greatest
political brains in Ulster and Edwin Poots, galloped non stop around the
election circuit. THEN! within sight of the winning post,Peter Robinson and
Sir Reg Empry, fell at the last hurdle. At the election speeches,Peter
Robinson spat venom to the media,
"NOW you won't have Robinson to kick around anymore!"
Little woebegone Sir Reg was more humble and succinct. The little golden
haired Knight of the realm,looked down at his dusty, Clark's shoes and
mumbled,
"I'll get my coat."
Little Sir Reg had seen the writing on the wall. Some horrible little
hoodie with time on his hands and chalk in his fingers had written,
"WEE REG IS FINISHED,SO HE IS!"
"Oh,cruel are the hoodies Of Belfast's fair city.
They stand at the corners to jeer and to boo.
They care not for honour or Queen or for country.
Smoking their spiffs and sniffing their glue."
(One of the finest pieces of doggerel Seamus Heany has ever written)
Let's draw a veil over the election. Let's treat the election like a very ugly bride and draw a veil over her. I'm changing the subject now.The second subject will start in exactly one second.
Tommy my cat and I sat with sunglasses on, to cut out the glare of Noel
Edmond's shirt. Deal or no deal? What a load of big red balloons.
Tommy yelled,
"Dymphna's droopy drawers!" and turned off the TV by throwing a siege of Derry cannon ball through the screen. He looked at me and yelled,
"Repulsiveness!"
"Yes," I cried,as I heard once again the little pet name, dearest mummy used
to call me.
"Let's take Henry the hoover for a walk," said Tommy,"to see if the volcanic ash makes him cough and splutter."
Little Henry did not want to go. It took numerous risers and lots of hose
twisting to get him out of the house.
As Tommy,Henry and I approached a corner,formed by two walls coming
together,we heard an awful commotion coming from a piece of waste ground.
There lay Tubby Nolan, writhing among the weeds and nettles.
"It's the volcanic ash!" screamed Tommy. "The volcanic ash has blocked Tubby's outlet. QUICK! Run for a fork lift truck! Tubby's trousers must come off immediately! His exhaust is clogged with volcanic ash. We need a volunteer to go where no man,or indeed woman, has gone before and and remove the ash from Tubby's outlet."
Suddenly the ball of blubber leapt to his feet and said,
"Worry not,I was merely laughing at a joke Michael McGimpsy told me.
A man said to the doctor, Doctor I think I'm a jelly baby and the doctor
chewed the face of him."
Oh how we didn't laugh. Then! I heard a sound from the past. I looked at Tubby and cried,
"Corncrake?"
"No," said Tubby. "It's my mum,big Audrey learning to play the fiddle."
"Does mummy play by ear?" I asked.
"No," said Tubby. "She puts it under her chin!" Neither Tommy the cat,
Henry the hoover or she,who is known as Repulsiveness,could think of a
comment,so no comment was made.