Go West!

A great show yesterday kid for all young school girls who don't like Mondays.
Suddenly Tommy my cat who was suffering from cabin fever began to shriek,
"I gotta get out of this place, if it's the last thing I ever do."
Before you could say,"You don't send me flour anymore," Tommy and I set off down Belfast, wearing matching Seamus Heaney heavy,woollen gansyies and kingfisher-blue hot-pants. We looked good and we knew it. We did a sexy little routine from Pan's People as we skipped along. Rounding a corner we found the road was blocked by a line of men. There was an Indian,a motorcycle cop,a construction worker,a cowboy and in the middle, Tubby Nolan roaring at the top of his voice,
"GO WEST, life is peaceful there,
GO WEST, the Londonderry air,
GO WEST, where the culchies dwell,
GO WEST, and watch my ego swell,
GO WEST, to Gerry Anderson's lair,
GO WEST, where I will rule the air."
"Who goes there," yelled Tommy,"rriend or fiend?"
"FIEND!" yelled Tubby."No one can stop me now. Soon I shall rule the universe. I wonder would Hugo Duncan be my Mini-Me?"
"NEVER!" I yelled. "Hugo Duncan will fight to the last man in Strabane before he escapes over the camel's hump into Lifford."
"Soon," yelled Tubby, "I and my army of BBC minions will invade the air-space of the North/West! Soon, I will ignite ructions and riots in remote places like Kesh and Plumbridge. I will lay waste the land West of the Bann, with slabbering poison from my big bucket bake. And there is nothing or no one who can stop me."
Tubby then let loose an evil laugh that chilled the marrow in my bones and rippled the water in my bladder.
"Not so fast!" cried Tommy. "Hold hard Everard! The chosen one,Saint Patrick incarnate,Gerry Adams, will stop you at Lough Derg and banish you like the snake you are."
Tubby turned white and mumbled,
"Gerry Adams and I were always the best of friends. I will not encroach on his thiefdom. I shall raise my standard at the camel's hump on the border of Strabane and Lifford until I have consulted the Oracle of Derry, Sean Coyle. Coyle can read the entrails of a chicken, like a cub can read the Beano."
SO! What does the future hold?????
Who knows, who cares? Bring on the chilly pipers with nay breeks so I can have a good gleek!