Friday 29 April 2011

100% Bunkum

Great show yesterday kid.
Take a bow kid, the great show you put on yesterday helped in no small way to save the life of wee Paddy Fiesta. As you know wee Paddy had fallen off a 500 foot cliff. Only for the fork of his trousers getting snagged on a piece of rusty barbed wire he would have fallen to certain death.
The rescue boys arrived and advised wee Paddy to, "Keep Calm".
18 hours later they returned and pulled him to safety. When asked by a furious Paul Clarke of UTV Live why the rescue had taken so long, a man who was obviously wearing a wig,explained a colony of rare nesting birds had to be moved first in case Paddy fell on them.
The first thing wee Paddy asked for,when his feet were once more on terra firma, was a cup of strong tea and a po. It is men like wee Paddy who make Ulster what is is, a nation of drunks!
Paddy later confided to the Sunday World, "When I fell off the cliff I wasn't drunk, but I had drink taken."
Paddy's trousers now hang beside a holy well in a remote part of Donegall and pilgrims come from all over the world and grab and tug at the fork of wee Paddy's trousers hoping for a miracle. So far, no joy!
"That story," said Tommy my cat,"is-bunkum, 24 caret, 100% bunkum. Like Mr Coyle, I don't believe a word of it. You had better watch yourself. You are turning into a right Gerald Michael Anderson. BUNKUM!!!"
"You doubting pussy," I yelled,"which part of the story do you not believe?"
"The part about the fork of the trousers," roared Tommy."Anyone with a titter of wit knows you need a VERY special certificate from Stormount AND a signed letter from the Pope himself before you can take a sacred relic, like the fork of Paddy's trousers,into another jurisdiction."
"The trousers were smuggled over the border at night," I yelled,"with nine bullock calves, half a ton of Stork margarine, six Linfield jerseys and a remixed CD of Daniel O'Donell's, "Moon Over Ireland."
"BUNKUM!" yelled Tommy.
And the horrible feline hit me right up the forehead with a bronze bust of Hannibal the cannibal.
What are the chances of that happening to a crazy,hazy,lazy,old ratbag?

Wednesday 27 April 2011

Wallowing and Wedding Lists

Great shows last week kid.
Great shows which snapped wee Ted Tidy out of his terrible, black depression. For years wee Ted had been wallowing in a deep pit of despair. Speaking from the back of a hobby-horse in Bundoran wee Ted said,
"No more wallowing in deep pits of despair for me! My wallowing days are over. Gerry Anderson shone a light up my tunnel of despair. When I loose 11 stone and buy a ginger wig I will be on a chick hunt."
Wee Ted then ran towards the sea wearing only a primrose-yellow welder's boiler suit and a pair of lime-green Dutch clogs. Two old codgers from Plumbridge said,
"Ahoy! Is that not Ted Tidy the former wallower frolicking in the breaking surf of the Atlantic ocean?"
"It is!" said a passing nomad from Sion Mills. "Thanks to the Gerry Anderson show wee Ted Tidy shall wallow no more in deep pits of despair."
Tommy my cat and I bustled round the house dressed as two Chelsea pensioners.
"Private Tommy," I yelled, "read out that Royal wedding check-list again! It is imperative that nothing is left out."
Tommy sat down on a recumbent Danish wino and roared out,
"Balloons-Check. Bunting-Check.Rice-Check.Old tin cans for tying to the TV-Check.
Onions,to make us cry-Check. Two pos with unimpeded access-Check. Coke,crisps, wee buns,cucumber sandwiches,Easter eggs and a drop of the crater-Check.
That seems to be everything," said Tommy.
"STALL THE WEDDING!" I cried. "STALL THE WEDDING! What about forelocks?"
"Why would we need four locks?" said Tommy.
"This house only has TWO doors!"
"Forelocks for pulling," I yelled. "We are mere servile churls. The Royal wedding will be choc-a-block with our betters. We need forelocks so we can pull them frantically to show our loyalty and lower station in life. TOMMY," I roared,
"run immediately to the forelock shop and purchase two of their finest forelocks!"
Tommy grabbed his America Express credit card and ran for the door.
"Oh Tommy!" I shrieked. "I also require four candles."
"OH NO!" said Tommy. "OH NO! This forelock hanlin' is going to be tricky enough without bringing fork handles into it!"
I concurred, threw a shovel of sand over it and lay down behind the door like a dog.
Yeh! just like a mean ol' hound dog!

Monday 25 April 2011

He's A Clown, So he Is.

Great show yesterday kid.
The Wednesday show can be a tricky little show as you well know. Remember Black Wednesday when Mr Coyle turned up for work dressed as, Batman?
"Go home," yelled Micky Bradly,"and change into your old, ripped jeans and Seamus Heaney gansey!"
Janet and Emma were in tears. They thought their chum had made like a lavatory brush and gone round the bend. Ken walked about, spinning his screwdriver like a six gun and said,
"I saw this coming. Just yesterday he whispered to me,
"Don't tell Gerry, but I'm the Queen of the May." Then along came-PROZAC, van loads of-Prozac and soon Mr Coyle was his old begrudging self again."
"Welcome to Talkback" simpered Wendy Austin. "Today we ask, "Who wears the knickers in your house?", as a new study shows that more and more people are going commando."
I turned the radio off by turning it on to class A drugs and said,
"I'm worried about Jim so I am, know what I mean? He tried to rob a bank, so he did. He was carrying a sawn-off shotgun, so he was. He looked at the wee girl behind the bank counter and said,
"Hello wee girl, how's it going? Here, the thing is, so it is, that I have a gun, so I have and I'm robbing this bank, so I am. I'm doing this for Liz, so I am. Ah you should see her, so you should. Skirts up to her bum, so she has and more makeup on than twelve clowns in Duffy's circus, know what I mean? But I love her, so I do and she loves me, so she does. We're going to buy a wee boozer, so we are. It's called The Rovers Return, so it is, but Liz and me will call it, "THE SO IT IS", so we will. Here! I must be off, so I must. The police are here, so they are. I must have been off my head, so I must. It's jail for me, so it is, know what I mean?"
Yes, I'm worried about Jim, so I am. The clown made a joke out of decent, hard working bank robbers, so he did!

Friday 22 April 2011

TOO CLOSE TO CALL.

Great show yesterday kid.
A great show which may sway yet the election result in the small island of Guano (pop 27) in the South seas. In the latest Mori poll the Right party and the Wrong party were neck and neck.
"It's too close to call," yelled Tommy my cat."but if the Wrong party get in, the price of guano will go through the roof!"
"If the worst happens," I cried,"we could eke out a living by dipping into our guano reserves and buying wisely on the black market!"
"QUICK!" yelled Tommy. "There's a willie wagtail in the garden with its tail up. Run out quickly with the small, miniature po."
I got there just in time. The amount was very small, yet every little counts for those of us who depend on a plentiful supply of guano to make us happy and give us a raison-de-etre.
"So!" I said,tapping my head against the wall and listening to the echo, "Mr Coyle is suffering from the head-staggers. His inner ear is kaput."
"His inner ear may have gone," said Tommy,"but his outer mouth,I say,his outer mouth is working fine."
"Every day,in every way," I said,"we find out more and more about Emma. Who would have thought she was a karaoke kid?"
"In Victorian London," said Tommy,"karaoke was looked down on. It was something only the poor did. Then karaoke was taken up by Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, Christopher Wren, the Bow Street runners and Jackie Fullerton and soon karaoke rang out from every castle and large estate in England."
I tittered and said,
"Doctor Johnson said,"Karaoke was an assault on the ears,an irritant to the stomach and if taken to excess could become habit forming and lead to blindness."
"Rubbish!" retorted Tommy."Studies carried out by Sir Basil McCrea and Jedward have found that claim to be spurious and without merit."
"Let's do some karaoke Tommy," I said,"please, please, pretty please."
Five minutes later Tommy and I were standing with our trousers down knocking seven bells out of Daniel O'Donnell's, "MOON OVER IRELAND".
Don't try this at home kids!

Thursday 21 April 2011

The strongest political party?

Great show yesterday kid.
A great show which acted like steroids on the sculptured, muscular thighs of the bogmen in Crossmaglen as they drove their turf spades into the soft, yielding loam.
Dark brooding eyes hidden under flat caps they puffed at Woodbine cigarettes and growled deep in their throat,"Ah,Barney,Barney my boy,you can keep your auld, "Sugar plum fairy" when it comes to ballet,the "Nutcracker Suite is the boy for me."
Tommy my cat put down his book,"Turn that frown into a smile" by Michael McGimpsey and said,
"It is a universal truth that the UUP party are the strongest political party in Northern Ireland."
"Expand Tommy," I cried. "Explain in graphic detail why the UUP are the strongest political party in Northern Ireland."
Tommy brushed a speck of ancient Egyptian dust from his charcoal grey,pinstripe Saville Row suit and said,
"Everytime a member of the UUP come on TV they brag and boast about the amount of heavy lifting they have done."
I released a ragged crow towards Libya and Col. Gaddafi with the phone number of the Samaritans in its hip pocket and said,
"I have no recollection of seeing David Trimble,Tom Elliott,or Sir Reg Empry in the,"Worlds strongest man".
"Nevertheless," said Tommy,"Tom Elliott told me,the UUP,like the South,SHALL rise again and astonish the world with their strength,vitality and amazing number of bus passes in the wallets of their supporters."
"Don't delay, vote grey!" I yelled, as with a flourish,I produced a top hat from a rabbit. Any fool can do it the other way about.
I tracked Mark Carruthers down to a classy joint under a bridge which sold VERY expensive gents' socks and hoisery. Two flunkeys, in powdered wigs were rolling a lovely pair of puce ankle socks up Mark's legs when I burst in.
"Are you going?" I yelled. "Are you going to the Royal wedding?"
Mark took a pinch of snuff from an old John West tuna can and said,
"Yes,as a matter of fact,I shall be at the Royal wedding."
"And where will you sit," I cried,"the groom's side, or the bride's side?"
"Neither," said Mark."I shall be serving kebabs from a silver salver. My uncle Stavros is doing the catering."
Kebabs, Stavros, Prince Phillip... man those Greeks sure stick together!
Beware Mark Carruthers bearing kebabs!

Tuesday 19 April 2011

A HAPPY ENDING

Great shows last week kid.
Great shows which have already been pirated and sold under the counter in dope dens in Singapore and certain,select,Mrs Baxter's Prime Haggis outlets in the Outer Hebrides. Knock twice, whisper, "Angus sent me" and ask for, "Yon Show".
Tommy and I spent the weekend Spring cleaning. We got two shovels and moved piles of dirt from one part of the house to another. As we sat down to a well earned rest with mugs of genuine Tibetan reindeer urine and crunchy insect biscuits encased in amber we heard an unusual sound.
"CLIP-CLOP. CLIP-CLOP
CLIP-CLOP. CLIP-CLOP."
It was old Bert Slack, the coal man and Del-Boy his faithful horse.
"CLIP-CLOP. CLIP-CLOP."
"HARK!" cried Tommy. "The sound of horseshoe on cobbles,is there any other sound so evocative as the clip-clop of horse hooves on cobblestones?"
"It's not THAT loud Tommy," I said, "be fair, old Bert has to make a living. You can't expect Del-Boy to pull a coal cart wearing bedroom slippers."
Tommy threw me a withering look. I caught it and put it in the drawer labelled, "Things Tommy Gave Me".
"Tommy," I said,"if a horse goes, clip-clop when it's going forward, does it go, clop-clip when it changes into reverse?"
Tommy glared at me and said,
"How did nature manage to get such a massive brain into such a small head?"
"I don't know Tommy," I replied,"I think my head just formed round it like a chestnut."
"YOU," yelled Tommy,leaping to his feet,"are a-Mutant!"
"Thank you Tommy," I said. "You're not half bad looking yourself in a scary, whiskery, feline sort of way."
"I GIVE UP!" yelled Tommy.
I just had time to shout,"Nil Desperandum" before the heavy frying pan made contact with my head.
As I went around Belfast desperately seeking guttering and spouting which commemorated the Royal wedding,I spied Tubby Nolan coming out off "Pricks" tattoo shop.
"I can't stop," gasped Tubby. "I have 24 french fancies and two litres of Coke waiting for me at home."
"WHOA! WHOA!Dobbin," I said. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me where you got tattooed. Was it perhaps your little........?"
"Certainly not!" roared Tubby. "The pain would be unbearable.If you must know I got a big smiley face tattooed on my rear."
"And why would a fat boy go and do that?" I asked.
"I'm just an old romantic at heart," said Tubby. "I do love a happy ending."
As Tubby lumbered away, I said to a lamp post,
"Watch that man! I fear the worst is yet to come!"

Monday 18 April 2011

Lemmings and Teasy Weasy

Great show yesterday kid.
A great show which brought great hilarity to the denizens of Sleepy Hollow, Co Antrim as they rounded up their vast herds of lemmings and drove them to the high pasture.
"Keep them away from the cliffs," yelled old Dusty Zimmerman, "or the wee doats will leap off and smash their little skulls on the rocks, boulders, stones, shale and gravel below!"
Tommy my cat sang,
"A, you're adora-bubble. B, you're so booty-full," as he stood in front of the Daily Mirror brushing his hair with a brace of Be-Bop brushes.
"Hey feline," I yelled, as I ate my way out of my magenta straitjacket,"where did you get that duo of Be-Bop brushes?"
"Never you mind," said Tommy. "Why an ugly,old, grotesque, with the odd tuft of ginger hair on her head is talking about Be-Bop brushes is beyond my wildest comprehension."
"How dare you!" I roared."I will have you know that in the 60's, premier hairdresser Teasy-Weasy said I had hair like the mane of a Clydesdale horse."
"Teasy-Weasy?" said Tommy. "What are you babbling about? What pantomime does Teasy-Weasy appear in?"
I tooked at my imaginary audience and yelled,
"We all remember Teasy-Weasy don't we ladies and gentlemen? YES! of course we do.
Teasy used to groom the biggest stars in Britain, Diana Dors, Tommy Steel, Twiggy, Miss Piggy and Max Wall."
"And his name was-Teasy-Weasy?" said Tommy.
"His real name was Pierre Raymondo," I replied merrily, "but some horrid people said, he was really Alf Stokes from Barnsley. It doesn't matter now! Teasy, Pierre, Alf, all dead now. Oh how I miss the 60's," I cried. "I was a hippy you know."
"A flower child?" said Tommy.
"No," I replied, "I had a very big arse, so the people called me-Hippy."
"Now that I do believe!" said Tommy,as he put his Be-Bop brushes away and cycled over to Donna Trainor's house for stuffed pork, stuffed mushrooms and stuffed ice cream, all served on a stuffed sofa. The only thing not stuffed in Donna Trainor's home is her childhood teddy bear.It's full of cement!
WHY? Ask Donna's daddy!
How would I know!

Saturday 16 April 2011

Cause and Effect or Design and Circumstance?

Great show yesterday kid.
A great show with dotted the Is, crossed the Ts and wisely skirted the Ps.
How Tommy my cat and I laughed when you continually interrupted Mr Coyle at the start of the show.
"Stop interrupting me!" yelled the grotesque golfer.
Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, or the clock calling the watch, a wee skitter.
Tommy opened his robe,inspected his bikini line, decided it would do for another week and sat down to a breakfast of kippers, orange juice and gooseberries which, unlike Tommy's bikini line, had been professionally Brazilianly waxed.
After breakfast Tommy sat me down on a King George the 27th coronation po and said,
"You don't seem any more intelligent after going to night school for six months during the Winter."
I glanced at Lance the goldfish to see how to gulp and whispered,
"I never went to night school. I'm afraid of the dark. When you thought I was at night school I was pole dancing at the Polish ex-service men's club in Rinty Monaghan Street.".
"Cause and effect," said Tommy as he walked up and down. "Design and circumstance. Smart, intelligent people and old wrinkled, wizened ratbags."
Tommy spun round and yelled,
"Do you know how the kangaroo got its name?"
I stared at the floor, which just by chance was under my feet and said,
"I suppose the kangaroo got its name when it was christened,just like the rest of us."
"Long, long ago," said Tommy,"two men stood in the bush in Australia. One was an Aborigine, the other was a sheet metal worker from Bolton, England. Suddenly, a strange animal burst out of the bush. The man from Bolton said to the Aborigine,
"Eeh by gum, that animal has reet put the wind up me. Eeh, I've come over all queer. What do folk around here call that strange animal?"
The Aborigine said, "Kangaroo", which is Aborigine for, "I don't know!"
"It's a reet rum do," said the man from Bolton and he went home and told everyone about the strange animal called a kangaroo.
"Cause and effect," said Tommy."Design and circumstance."
"Big Tommy smarty pants!" I yelled. "How did a duck get its name then?"
"An involuntary, verbal, outburst,"said Tommy,"from a caveman, when a big, fat mallard drake flew at his head."
And do you know something, I looked it up and it's TRUE?
But what puzzles me about the whole thing is, why did the man from Bolton not go to the foot of his stairs???
It's a well known fact,that the people of Bolton spent 76% of their time at the foot of their stairs going, "Eeh by gum," and "Think on lad, think on."

Wednesday 13 April 2011

A Contentious Conundrum

Great show yesterday kid.
A great show which threw up a contentious conundrum. Tommy my cat stood staring out the window. The greying temples, briar pipe, tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbow gave him a distinguished,cat- about-town appearance.
He looked-confident and honest, the kind of cat you would buy a second hand car from.
Tommy knocked his pipe out on my head and said,
"I find myself puzzled and perplexed. Lately Mr Coyle refuses to believe a single thing that Gerry says. Why should that be?" said Tommy. "Why would Mr Coyle reject the word of a former alter boy, long shore man, pimp and musician?"
I went to my handy phrase box, pulled out a piece of paper and slowly read out,"IT!---beggars-be--be---belief."
Puzzled, baffled and ugly,I began to walk the floor with furrowed brow, badly ploughed face and a harrowing look in my eyes.As I walked I kept banging one fist into another until I ran out of fists.
"WHY?" I said,staring at an early house fly, making it look away.
"Why would a man, a solitary man who walks the roads alone at night and hates, loathes and detests compost boxes, WHY would that man doubt the word of Gerald Michael Anderson?"
"The answer lies in the Coyle," said Tommy."Mr Coyle is what is known in the medical profession as a, curious, peculiar cove."
"The dreaded CPC!" I yelled. "There is only one known cure. Mr Coyle must wear a donkey harness round hs neck and be led round Ireland by a blind, red haired, one-legged tuba player."
"Then it's useless," sobbed Tommy. "We will never find a donkey harness in Ireland."
I concurred, covered it up with some old newspapers and went to bed, using the stairs so kindly put there by Mrs Bunty Hovis from number 101, Melrose Place, Ballymena.
Bunty is one of the Derbyshire Hovises, don't you know!
Oh yes! they have a baby grand in the coal shed.

Monday 11 April 2011

Too Much Liberation

Great shows last week kid. Great shows which stopped an army of pish-muloges invading the Latin quarter of Sixmilecross. Foreign Secretary William, "Egg Head" Hague said, while doing pish-ups, sorry--push-ups, in the house of commons,
"Mr.Speaker and indeed, Mrs Listener, I would like to inform the house that the army of pish-muloges threatening the Latin quarter of Sixmilecross has been routed and is on the retreat. This is due entirely to the Gerry Anderson show and the air support provided by the Royal Air Force. The opposition, oh yes Mr. Speaker, the opposition would have appeased the pish-muloges, but Her Majesty's government stood firm and will do so again, if any town in Ulster is threatened by insects led by a mad dictator. So let earwigs quake and creepy-crawlies fear, we'll keep our simmets flying here."
(If you would like to stand up and stretch your legs, now is the time to do so.)
Tommy my cat and I stood in the nude after watching, "Buck Naked" with Gok Wan.
"I feel-liberated and much more confident!" yelled Tommy.
"Free of the restriction of clothes," I roared,"I feel as light as thistledown! I want to skip, elf-like through secret bowers of bluebells. I want to bathe in secret, blue lagoons and hang by the heels from a tall oak tree. I want to roll, wantonly in lush, green meadows and perch like a gannet on a rural, rustic, wooden stile. I want to display my beauty to the WORLD!"
"Well, before you do," said Tommy,"lie down on the kitchen table and I'll run the smoothing iron over you."
Tommy is a master of the smoothing iron. Soon I was running naked down Belfast with just two scorch marks, one on either hip. Alas Matt Baggott captured me in a butterfly net and I appear in court next week charged with startling old codgers and frightening the horses. I can just see the headline in the Sunday World.
"Free spirit fined half a nicker for having no knickers."
Tommy got off with a caution and a small riser just under the tail.
I think Tommy got off easier because he's a Catholic!

Saturday 9 April 2011

The unpredictability of life.

Great show yesterday kid.
Tommy my cat adjusted his burnt umber Bavarian lederhosen and said,
"That great show will stand out as a shining beacon for people who find themselves adrift on the sea of life. Lonely, desperate people," yelled Tommy,
"hanging on like grim death to failed relationships, dead end jobs, delusions of grandeur and a firm belief that the cast of Hollyoaks are real people!"
"Poor, pathetic, delusional wretches," I said."Lost souls, adrift on the sea of heart break. Devotees of The Antiques Road Show, repeats of Victoria Wood and the shipping forecast."
"The flotsam and jetsam of humanity," cried Tommy,"bobbing about on the sea of life, going no where, dependant on tide and wind, depicting in graphic detail the essence of the famous poem,
"Not waving, but drowning."
Let's examine the unpredictability of life," said Tommy. "You got up this morning without a bump on your head. Now watch,I pick up this heavy, cast-iron frying pan, bring it down hard on your skull and HEY PRESTO, now you have a bump on your head. Such are the vagaries and unpredictability of life."
I lay in the corner stunned and yelled,
"That's amazing Tommy! Do it again Tommy. Do it again!"
"No," said Tommy. "Not until your fractured skull has mended."
That's what I like about Tommy, his kindness and humanity.
Oh BEWARE kid!!!. Scam artists are going from door to door selling fake frogspawn.
All you get for your tenner is wallpaper paste with raisins in it.
The badness of some people makes me want to PUKE!

Thursday 7 April 2011

Scowls and Stares

Great show yesterday kid
A great show which stood out as an oasis of peace and serenity after the turbulent, bombastic, bellowing of Steven Nolan.
Tommy my cat pulled up his little white ankle socks and said, "We really must get Tubby a woman. Nothing cures a man with a big gub like a slap up the kisser from his beloved."
"You're right Tommy," I said,"and when you're right, you're not wrong. I have seen men,seven, eight,TEN foot tall,turn into wee,timmering beasties at the scowl on the face of their small,petite,dumpy wife."
"That scowl," said Tommy,"is called the withering stare. I have known women who could kill a rose bush from twenty yards just by scowling at it."
"Stop twittering!" I yelled. "Stick to the agenda. What are we going to do with Tubby Nolan?"
Tommy put on a polka dot thinking cap and said, "Let's put an add in the Belfast Telegraph!"
"Fat man with his own spoon seeks right,little belter.Must be curry tolerant and at least half human. NO inflatable women need apply!"
"Very good," I said,"but that last caveat will rule out 71% of the demographic."
So be it," said Tommy. "So let it be written, so let it be done!"
Tommy went to the clothes line, removed an item, put it to his nose and said,
"AH! I love the smell of a nappy first thing in the morning."
"APOCALYPSE NIGH!" I yelled.
OH how we laughed!
A thunderous knocking at the door interrupted our game of scramble.
Tommy and I got off our off-road motorcycles and opened the door.
A very flustered Donna Trainor stood there wringing her hands in a small portable mangle.
"Oh woman and cat," she cried,"woe is me. It is my turn to make the Irish stew for the Newsline crew. Could you please loan me a scrag end of mutton, a large turnip, three carrots, two onions, half a stone of spuds, a pinch of salt and pepper and the instructions on how to make Irish stew."
Tommy and I loaded little Donna up and sent her on her way.
We had just got back on our scramblers again when there was another loud knock on the door. This time it was the pride of UTV, Paul Clarke.
Paul smiled and said,
"It is my turn to make the Shepherds pie at UTV Live today. I wondered if you could possible loan me........."
Tommy slammed the door in his face and yelled,
"LET THEM EAT CAKE!" as he got back on his little motorcycle.
I mean, who would be next, Al-Jazera?

Monday 4 April 2011

10 Lost Days

"APRIL FOOL!" yelled Tommy my cat as he detonated a large, burgundy, Russian landmine under my bed while I was asleep.
Oh,I was angry. I was so angry I was spitting feathers.
"Who gave you a key to the armoury?" I yelled.
"RASPUTIN!" laughed Tommy.
"Rasputin the mad, monk wino, who in reality is Derek Daisy from Ballymena."
"So the reality is, Derek Daisy from Ballymena?" I said.
"That's what the reality is!" replied Tommy.
Tommy slipped into a skintight, mint-green leotard and said,
"How did all this, April Fool business come about? Come on, spit it out.Don't stand there like a Daniel O'Donnell fan at a Black Sabbath Concert."
I sat down on a maritime, marlin spike and said,
"Come with me to France. The year is 1582. Up until now New Years Day was April the first. Enter stage left Pope Greg with a calender under his arm. There was a lovely picture of Walter Love on the front of the calender.
The Pope addressed the assembled rabble,
"Les Miserables," roared Greg,"the times they are a changing.
The Julian calender is kaput. Under my oxter I have the new calender, the Gregorian calender!"
"Good on yeh, yeh boy!" cried a French peasant.
"Put your clocks back ten days!" roared Greg.
"That means you will all get a good lie in."
"Good old Greg!" roared the crowd.
"And another thing," bellowed Greg,"any one who fails to follow my Papal Bull is a FOOL!"
Pope Greg made that speech on the 1st of April 1582, hence-April Fool."
"I still don't get it," muttered Tommy,as he set off for Tubby Nolan's house pulling a large field gun behind him. As little Tommy walked along he kept a sharp look out for the ten lost days.
And so should YOU!
Just think what you could do with 10 days in Spain!