Monday 7 August 2017

Great show yesterday kid. A great show which greatly helped old man Zimmer get over the sad, sudden death of Fergus, his pet ferret. "Fergus, was more than a ferret!" cried the the old man. "He was also a friend. What will I stick down the front of my trousers NIGH?" he screamed. A kindly, caring, district nurse made the old man forget his sorrow by hitting him over the head with a child of Prague statue. "The power of religion," croaked old Maggie, who was sitting in the corner teaching crickets how to sit, beg and roll over and play dead. Tommy my cat, sporting a tattoo of Jim Allister on his right buttock, opened a packet of rich tea biscuits with a controlled explosion and said, "We should go to the city of culture at the weekend and see the amazing, "Nitro Five" dancing troupe from Salford put on a display of clog dancing which will leave you bewitched, bothered, bewildered and breathless." "Listen, Tommy lad," I said, "If thee thinks I want to see clog dancing then thee must be barmy, so, think on lad. Think on!" "Eeh by gum!" said Tommy. "Thee has changed. Ever since Mr Hardcastle made thee foreman at mill thee has come over all la-di-dah. Thee makes me sick!" said Tommy. "It's an awful thing to say but sometimes I pray for, trouble at mill." "Trouble at mill!" I yelled. "Wash thee mouth out with carbolic soap. Another outburst like that and thee will hit cobble stones with thee flat cap, moleskin trousers and clogs. I won't have thee bad mouthing mill. If it weren't for mill our gruel wouldn't have little bits of pigs' whiskers floating it it. So, think on lad. Pigs' whiskers, aye, aye and bread and dripping don't grow on trees." At twelve o'clock Wendy Austin nearly burst my eardrums when she guldered, "Well folks, it's The BIG day in America. Bronco Obama and Mike Roomy will be battling it out to become the next President of America. Tell us what you think. Later I shall be talking to Jim Allister about his strange, secret hobby of running after butterflies with a big net shouting, "Come back you wily varmints!" The door opened and Jim Rodgers screamed, "Nigh Nigh, a thousand times, Nigh to yous all!" Tommy looked up and drawled, "Well if it ain't the old tomato jumper. What brings you round these here parts stranger?" Jim stood there steely eyed, hands on hips and replied, "I've come for my toy." "You been eating loco weed?" said Tommy. "Let me explain!" screamed Jim. "I was playing with my remote control toy helicopter and it went in to your back yard. Can I have it back--please?". "Sure partner." said Tommy. "Just mosey on out there and get it." When Jim was in the back yard Tubby Nolan burst it roaring,"Did you see it? Did you see the UFO? It seemed to disappear into your back yard." In came Jim with a low hanging sheet from the clothes line tangled round his head. "ALIENS!" guldered Tubby. "NIGH! NIGH! NIGH!" screamed Jim. "It's trying to communicate!" yelled Tubby. "Yous keep it talking, while I run for a camera crew."."I'm sure most of you saw it on the news. Jim Rodgers with a sheet over his head, waving his arms like crazy and screaming, "NIGH! NIGH! NIGH!"   Mark Carruthers, ever the professional, looked into the camera and said, "Well folks it seems an alien invasion is imminent. I for one am looking forward to it!" "Never nothing worth watching on TV." said Tommy, as he put on a CD of Hugo Duncan's Christmas hits. NOW that was scary!

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