Missing The Interruptions

Great show yesterday Kid. The show had that certain something. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I think it's my back. You know the part of your body that isn't your front? Even after three days and knowing full well that Mr Coyle is spending some time in North Korea with Kim Jong, some North Koreans have christened Mr Coyle, the lodger from hell, because he and Kim sit up half the night doing Elvis impersonations and knocking back pints of Guinness. Even after knowing all that, part of me, some evil, deformed, perverted part of me, still misses the interruptions. And not just me. Tommy my cat yelled out yesterday,
"Mien Gott, is no one going to impede Gerry's conversational flow?"
Today, as I was rolling on the floor over something you said, I looked at Tommy and looked back again in horror. A change had come over the feline. His face was swollen up and one large eye brow covered his little yellow slitted eyes. Tommy looked dark and swarthy, the dead spit of Bill Sykes. I heard a rattle in Tommy's legs. 'Twas the dreaded rickets. Looking back at me was not the happy face of Tommy my cat, but the vicious visage of--Sean Thaddeaus Coyle!
Then the "Thing" that was not Tommy yelled out to the radio,
"When you were young did you wear short trousers? Do you know what I saw on TV last night? What kind of man was your father? What was the highest number of lodgers to ever stay in your house? Do you put salt AND pepper on your poundies?"
Then the horrible invader contorted its evil face and yelled,
"I had a dream last night!"
"Well have another!" I roared
And I hit the thing that was not Tommy over the head with a bronze statue of Queen Julianna of the Netherlands.
(Janet, will you please turn the page)
"Do you hear me mother?" roared Tubby Nolan to big Audrey.
"Do you hear me mother? I will NOT wear that horrid, red and black striped gansy you bought me. It makes me look like Dennis the Menace."
And Tubby stamped his foot, sending paving slabs flying out into the middle of the road. I put a halter on the Blimp and led him away before a hit squad from the DOE arrived.
"Calm down fat boy," I said, placing a hand on his quivering flank.
"It's mummy," said Tubby. "She thinks I'm still her little boy."
"Has she tried Specsavers?" I asked.
"I'm a big boy now," said Tubby.
"You certainly are!" yelled a bus load of nuns on their way to Knock.
Tubby dragged me into Fred Blogg's Chinese take-a-way and soon Tubby's chubby hands were ferrying oodles of noodles to his rose bud mouth.
Steven looked at Fred Bloggs and said,
"Fred, are you Chinese?"
"Nah son," replied Fred. "Fred Bloggs is not from China, but my mother's tea set is!"
Tubby shrugged and went back to noodle oodling.