Diamonds Are Not Forever.

Great show yesterday Kid. It was a well set up wee show. It was a neat, tidy little show. The kind of show you would take home to meet mummy.
I grabbed Tommy my cat by the heels and pulled him out from behind the washing machine where he had been pretending to be a lost sock.
I sat him down on a Queen Ann bean bag and said,
"Tommy, did you hear Mr Coyle complaining about not having a screen?"
"I did!" yelled Tommy. "And I must say I was filled with great loathing and high octane revulsion."
"Who does Mr Coyle think he is?" I screamed. "Graham Norton?"
"Thank goodness for Ken," said Tommy. "Armed only with his trusty screwdriver, Ken made a dawn raid on the inner sanctum and left Mr Coyle-screenless."
"Kudos to Ken!" I yelled. "I know why Mr Coyle wants a screen. He wants to watch Jeremy Kyle while poor Gerry is slogging his guts out putting on a show."
"What a bad boy Mr Coyle has turned into!" said Tommy. "Oh, by the by, talking about early morning shows, did you know that the only place to see Ann Diamond is on the Matthew Wright show on Channel Five?"
I lifted my leg high in the air and said,
"Little Ann Diamond? That's a blast from the past. Little perky, cheeky, round-eyed Ann Diamond. I haven't seen her for monkey's years. What does she look like, Tommy, what does Ann Diamond look like? I gotta know. I just gotta know!"
Tommy opened the door. A smart Rhode Island hen marched up the floor and laid a wreath in front of the fireplace. Tommy blew the last second class post on his bugle and bellowed,
"Age has indeed withered her and the years condemned. Gravity," yelled Tommy, "has played havoc with her visage! Ann Diamond," yelled Tommy,"looks like an old boot, an old, baseball catchers mitt, a chamois leather than has been left out in the sun, the inside of a kangaroo's pouch. Gravity," screamed Tommy, "has pulled Ann Diamond's face hither and thither! Remember her cute, little, cupid, rosebud mouth? All gone. Her mouth has turned down to such an extent, the only way she can eat soup, is by wearing a sou' wester."
"And is she still opinionated Tommy?" I asked.
"Oh yes," replied Tommy, "and in my opinion has moved to the right. No matter what the discussion is, Ann Diamond is always to be found on the high moral ground. She grimaces, or girns out of the TV screen and says things like,
"WELL! My children don't do that!
WELL! My husband doesn't do that!
Or, WELL! My gardener has never flashed at ME!"
"I bet he has," I said, "when her back was turned, from the shelter of the cucumber patch.
Gardeners, in my opinion, are earthy, lusty sons of the soil.
Why, for a gardener not to flash, is akin to a dog that will not bark!"
"Bow Wow!" said Tommy.