Tommy wants a Biscuit.

Great show yesterday kid. During the great biscuit bonaza in the middle of your show, Tommy my cat stood with his hand out at the radio like Oliver Twist. But alas, no biscuit materialized from either grill or vent. He choked back tears and whispered,
"I'm not angry. I'm not resentful, but I am disappointed. I never thought," said Tommy,staring sadly at the pouring rain,"I never thought Radio Foyle would refuse a biscuit to a lump of a cat. I never thought in my wildest dreams, that Gerry would begrudge a biscuit to a cat, who loves him like a daddy."
"Stall the weddin' and change the beddin'!" I yelled. "It was-COYLE! Coyle is the keeper of the biscuits at Radio Foyle. He is also lavatory attendant, fly catcher, French maid and plumper-upper of cushions."
"I should have known," said Tommy. "I should have known. Gerry would give me biscuits in abundance, but the evil "Eyebrow" would not give you a ricket from his leg."
"Coyle is the Jack Benny of Stroke City," I said. "He has an old penny on a piece of string which he drops into the church collection box and then whips out again. All his trousers still have flares and if he sees a man clipping a privet hedge,he is not adverse to sticking his head through the hedge to get a free hair cut."
"Gerry should make him sit on the naughty step," said Tommy.
I pointed at Tommy and vocalised,
"YOU, Tommy cat, are loved by all who know you. Anyone, even Tubby Nolan would give you a biscuit."
Little Tommy cheered up and said,
"You know the last chocolate eclair in the pantry, may I have it?"
"NO!" I yelled and I grabbed the eclair, ran up the stairs and rolled under my bed like a warthog.
Who does Tommy think I am? Saint Vincent de-Paul???