Ballots and One Word Sentences.

Great show yesterday kid.
A great show which FAILED to give any guidance on how to handle THREE ballot papers and place them correctly in THREE different ballot boxes.
The time is coming, I say, the time is coming, when the voters of Ulster will be expected to go out in the dark of night and pin a tail on their favourite candidate. Jim Allister has already called for it!
I saw an old codger standing confused and bewildered clutching THREE ballot papers in his trembling hand.
"I can't do it!" croaked the old codger. "I left school at nine, we didn't go to university in my day."
"SHUT UP!" he was told. "Its hardly rocket surgery."
The old codger told them what to do with their ballot papers, but they didn't do it, instead they foisted them on to a Millie with a baby in her arms and a fag in her gub.
Tommy awoke from his self-induced stupor and roared,
"What's Mr Coyle up to with his one word sentences? He glares at Gerry from behind the glass and yells,
"Marbles. Hurley. Knickers. Jordie."
And poor Gerry has to try and guess what le-interrupter is talking about."
"Mr Coyle," I said, making a horrible face,"is trying to out-do Harold Pinter. Mr Coyle is writing a book called "Finnegan's Bereavement" which consists entirely of one word sentences."
Tommy's face turned bright red and he roared,
"Well I have one word for Mr Coyle and that word is........!"
"Language Timothy," I said. "Language!"
Tommy, good cat that he is, later said, "SORRY!"