THE WONDERS OF SCIENCE.

Great show yesterday kid. A great show which caused a great change in Jim Allister. Jim or, Jimmy boy, as he likes to be called, morphed into a happy, cheery chap and ran out and embraced first minister Peter Robinson and second minister Martin McGuinness. Both men ran to the high court and took out an injunction on Sunny Jim, alleging sexual molestation and vexing and annoying Bonnee amie.
I looked at Tommy my cat as he sat in the corner playing solitaire and cheating like a riverboat gambler.
"Attend me Tommy," I said. "I desire one of your brilliant, smashing, professional critiques. You heard sick bag Sally sing and play the banjo, how would you sum up her performance?"
Tommy threw the devil's play things from him and said,
"Sick bag Sally nailed it! She made it her own! I predict that Sickbag Sally will be Ulster's answer to yon Susan Boyle. I heard on the grapevine that Simon Cowell has slipped into a figure-hugging t-shirt and is on his way to sign Sick bag Sally and promote her musical and vocal talent on the worlds stage."
"Cor Slimy!" I cried. "Sick bag Sally could be another Alma Cogan, Kathy Kirby or Captain Sensible!"
"She could indeed!" said Tommy. "HOWEVER, it would be remiss of me not to point out one glaring fault."
"What fault Tommy?" I yelled. "Her clothes? Her appearance? Her catholic upbringing?"
"Neither!" cried Tommy. "If I were Sick bag Sally, I would take the banjo to someone who CAN play it and get it tuned!" I looked at Tommy in wonder and awe. What a cat! Tommy cut right to the chase and pointed out that all musical instruments have to be tuned. I bet Phil Coulter doesn't know that! Listen carefully to, "Boom-Bang-A-Bang" and you will find the crash cymbal is flat.
Tommy and I lay in front of the fire, like two lurcher dogs, talking about the good old days. "Powdered eggs," said Tommy. "Birds instant custard took two days to make. The clip-clop of clogs. The rattle of rickets and the shrill, piercing cries of tapeworms."
"The sound of cart wheels on cobble stones," I said. "The shrill cry of, "Bring out your dead" Boils, Buboes and blackheads."
Tommy smiled and said, "It was a golden age. A golden age for pus."
"THEN!" I cried. "Old Alexander Fleming left his half-eaten bap on the window sill and invented penicillin and pus was defeated."
"Could old Alex not let things alone?" Tommy yelled. "We were poor, filthy and disease ridden, but we were happy."
Tommy looked at me and said, "Did not Alex Fleming also invent phlegm in the chest?"
"Yes he did," I said. "He also invented the annual check-up and the repeat prescription."
"Who invented the DLA?" said Tommy.
"Daniel Larry Assburger," I replied. "He also invented malingering, malaise and the malignant mallet."
"The wonders of science," said Tommy, as he injected 1,000mg of Novacine into my rear. As yet, there is no cure for a numb bum!!!