Running For Gerry

Great show yesterday Kid. A great show which made a lasting impression on Tommy my cat. After the great show Tommy gathered me, Henry the hoover and Wilbur the budgie into the living room and addressed us thus,
"Friends," Said Tommy,"dear, darling friends, I have called you here today to inform you that I have applied for the job of runner, on the Gerry Anderson show."
Well, that caused some commotion I can tell you. Wilbur the budgie began to caw like a crow while dancing from foot to foot. Henry the hoover switched himself on and ran round in circles with his flexible hose twisting and swaying like a hungry python.
It was left to me to bring a little sanity to the proceedings.
"YOU TUBE!" I yelled. "You poor, deluded, stupid, thick, ugly, hump-backed, vile-featured tube."
"I will now take questions from the floor," said Tommy.
I raised my leg and yelled,
"Ken Reid from UTV LIVE. Could you tell our viewers just what you would run for, if you were appointed runner on the Gerry Anderson show?"
"Thank you Ken," said Tommy. "I'm glad you asked that question. I would run upstairs for records,run to the shop for Mr Coyle's hotdogs. I would run to purchase tights for Emma and Janet. I would run to put on bets for Ken "Screwdriver" Doherty and last of all,I would run outside to tell the naughty wind not to ruffle Mr Anderson's lovely, lovely hair."
"TOADY!" cried Henry the hoover.
"You go for it kid!" squawked Wilbur the budgie.
"Now hold on thar a cotton picking moment!" I roared. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"It's true" said Tommy. "I did not pass the eleven plus, but I see no reason why that small omission, should hinder me from being a runner at Radio Foyle."
"YOU'RE A CAT!" I yelled. "A feline, a moggy, a pussy, a tabby, a milk lapper. Who in their right mind would give a job to a cat?"
"Gerry Anderson would!" roared Tommy. "I have been in communication with Herr Anderson and he assures me the job is mine if I do well at the interview."
What a sad crowd gathered at the bus station to see Tommy off. He was wrapped in the skin of a yak to withstand the cold of Stroke City, Ulster's Alaska.
Wilbur the budgie tried to be chipper but his feathers hung sadly around his knees.
Henry the hoover was inconsolable. Never have I see so many tears from an inanimate object. He cried like a baby and wrapped his flexible hose around himself for solace and comfort. As the bus pulled away, Tommy leaned out the window and sang,
"Think of me when you're lonely. Think of me when you're blue. Think of me when I'm far away and I'll be thinking of you."
The empty chair. Ah dear God, the empty chair at the dinner table. It was as much as I could do to force down two fish suppers, five packets of crisps, three large bars of Mars and a two litre bottle of Coca Cola.
HARK! The knock on the door in the night!
I glanced bleary-eyed at my bedside sun-dial. One o' clock! Who could be knocking at my door at one o'clock?
It was little Tommy. The stupid little feline had made a hayricks of the interview.
Tommy had got on great with Gerry, Sean and the girls, but had greatly displeased Micky Bradly. How many times had I warned Tommy? How many times had I said,
"Don't poo in the Hucklebuck shoes."
Tommy is now wondering if Frank Mitchell is taking on staff to show the listeners how to parcel a gift at Christmas.
Tommy a runner? More like a scunner to me!