No Cure For Surliness.

Great show yesterday kid.
Tommy my cat turned the radio off by yelling,
"You were good, but not right!"
A radio taker-away ran in, bound and gagged the radio and made his escape on a Honda 900cc Widow Maker motorcycle. Tommy plucked a lute, tooted a flute, pressed his suit and said,
"Mr Coyle was very surly today."
"I grabbed my Chamber's pot dictionary and yelled,
"SURLY, Morose, Gruff, Grumpy, Gloomy, Made famous by Shakespeare when he said in his famous play The mercenary of Ennis,
"Gadzooks, the knave in tattered hose was a surly churl."
"Well, bend me over and spank me with a rolled-up copy of Titbits!" cried Tommy."That's Mr Coyle to a T. Is there no cure? Is there no remedy that will cure Mr Coyle from his morose, gruff, gloomy, grumpy surliness?"
"RISERS!" I yelled."RISERS, administered by a man wearing Italian shoes and sporting a crop of newly sown hair."
"Where is Silvino Berlussconi when you need him?" yelled Tommy.
"Probably playing away from home," I cried.
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!" screamed Tommy, for no apparent reason that I could see.
As I skipped by Eason's book shop on the Donegall Road, I saw the most amazing sight. It was Tubby Nolan clambering out of the back of a bin lorry.
"What did I tell you?" I yelled. "Did I not say to you, Steve don't appear on the street wearing a black suit when the bin lorry is making its rounds?"
Tubby flicked a fish head from his hair and said,
"That's the third time that has happened to me this week. On Tuesday I had to walk back from the landfill site AND pay a fine for dumping an item stuffed with flammable material,ie curry."
"Steve," I said,"Steve,you've got to take yourself in hand. Look at you, standing there like Patrick Moore's down-at-heel love child."
"Perhaps I should get a make-over," said Tubby.
"Make-over?" I scoffed. "You need land-scaping. Oh,if only Capability Brown could have got his hands on you. I can see you now. A wide avenue leading up to a water feature at the fork of your trousers. Neatly clipped privet hedge eyebrows. Shoes with decking soles to keep you from sinking into the mire and your hair topiaried into cute,little bunny rabbits."
"Push off bucket bake!" roared Tubby. "I'm no namby-pamby like Hugh Grant. I'm tough, like James Colburn, Lee Marvin, Ernest Borgnine and Babara Stanwych who scared the pants of Sean Coyle with her Rift (Pardon me)valley."
"Cats," I mused, "pigeons, Barbara Stanwyck, could there be a link? I decided to fly to America, dig up Barbara Stanwyck, get a sample of her DLA--sorry-DNA and compare it with Tommy's. Then and only then, could we work on Mr Coyle's peculiar phobia.
As I walked away I heard a bull-like roar. Once again Tubby Nolan was in the back of the bin lorry. Seems like water and rubbish always find their own level!
It's the kids I feel sorry for, having to witness such a degrading spectacle on their way to the off-licence.