The Caravan Moves On

Great royal show yesterday kid. I am sure Mr Coyle's serf-like, servile grovelling has been noted in the house of Windsor.
"Whom is that brown-nosed toady?" asked Prince Phillip as he waited for old Jordie to appear.
" A mere surly churl," said the Queen,"who sweeps the floors, brings in water and keeps the bathrooms clean in the house of Anderson. His name, for some, quaint reason is, Sean Coyle."
"I don't like him," puffed Prince Phillip."Off with his head AND his feet and any protuberance that may be spoiling the line of his village idiot smock."
Tommy my cat tattooed the image of the battleship Bismark on my back with a Black and Decker drill and said,
"The dogs bark and the caravan moves on."
"Meaning-what?" I cried.
"Meaning," said Tommy,"that the tsunami of royal coverage will greatly diminish now until a week before the marriage."
And a good thing too," said Tommy. "There are other things of great importance to talk about."
"Such as what?" I roared.
"Are you aware," said Tommy,"that the Northern Ireland budget has not yet been passed?"
"Have they tried castor oil?" I asked.
"Litres of it," said Tommy,"and gallons and gallons of Jeyes Fluid. Next week, if there is no movement, Sammy Wilson is going to call in Dyno-Rod."
THEN! there was a timid knock on the door. It was little, clean, tidy Frank Mitchell asking if either of us knew how to tie a bow tie. Tommy came to the rescue and tied a hugh, frilly, scarlet-red McGuffin around wee Frank's neck that made it appear the little man was peering over a massive red petticoat. If little Frank turns up at the royal wedding looking like that,he will turn the big day into a veritable circus.
Perhaps Pammy Ballentine could have a word in his shell-like. I mean you can see the headlines.
"IS HE 'AVING A LAUGH?"
"ULSTER WEATHERMAN GETS ROYAL RISER."
"Mr McCRORY ASKED TO LEAVE!"