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!