Gerry's Back!

Tommy my cat danced round the room like Louie Spence singing,
"GERRY'S BACK, GERRY'S BACK.
GO HOME AND PREPARE FOR CRAIC."
I continued to knit a kipper tie from a basket of dead kippers at my feet. My face was dead pan, for all the world like a pan that had died, but inside my gorgeous gizzard, smashing spleen and pretty little pancreas were singing, dancing and throwing their little hats in the air.
Tommy glared at me like a gargoyle from Gortin and yelled,
"Come on, let's have it, who was the best stander-inner when Gerry was away? Painful eyes, or Thunder thighs?"
I leaped to my feet, overturning my basket of deceased kippers and roared,
"I refuse to play the blame game. Both men concerned have families to feed and addictive habits to maintain. YOU may point the finger," I yelled, pointing at Tommy,
"but I refuse to point the finger!"
Tommy looked at me like Kat Deely and said,
"I admire you for that, old, wizened ratbag! Let others cast slurs, aspersions and bits of breeze blocks, you and I shall rise above it and take the moral high ground."
In the silence that followed, Tommy and I listened intently to the rumble of the chimney tumbling slowly down the roof.
When the soot had cleared, I gracefully made my way to the window and said,
"Don't worry, the wee lum is still reeking."
Tommy faced me by turning his back to the wall and whispered,
"I think Gerry Anderson is a secret agent!"
"Get away!" I said.
"Every time Gerry goes away," yelled Tommy,"something major happens in the world. This time it was the downfall of Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, another time it was the civil partnership between Cameron and Clegg. Now that I think of it," said Tommy, "I once heard Gerry say to a girl wearing a mini skirt at a street corner,
"The names-Anderson, Gerry Anderson."
"Get away!" I replied.
"Gerry Anderson is the new James Bond!" screamed Tommy. "He carries a hotplate and has a licence to grill."
"Get away!" I said.
"Come 'ere hi, there's more," said Tommy. "Did you ever notice the way Gerry stands, with his hand ready to go for his piece, his gnat, his-rod?"
I grabbed Tommy by the scruff of his scrawny neck, sank my toe into his furry rear and shrieked,
"Amen, Amen I say onto to thee, did I not tell thee thrice to get away? Now, get away and leave me alone. Tubby Nolan is coming over for tea. I have to trim my nose hairs and run out for a wheel barrow load of wee buns!"
"When Tubby Nolan comes to tea
All the mice and earwigs flee.".
It's a survival mechanism!