No Hign Falutin Rubbish Here

Great shows last week kid,
Great shows which proved beyond all reasonable doubt that migraines do not respond to dancing naked with a cut-out figure of Jim Allister. Nothing relieves a migraine like sitting, legs akimbo on a huge nude turkey basted with a high octane mixture of ferret liquid ear wax and turpentine.
Turp-en-tine, doesn't the word, turp-en-tine have a sensual, erotic sound?
Unlike garbage, which is just rubbish.
Oh yes! speaking of cures for migraine.
Always remember,if it's long, curly, with a tuft of dry, ginger hair at the tip, it's an old wives' tail.
Tommy my cat ran down the stairs wearing a cream,linen jacket, white trousers and cried,
"Anyone for tennis?"
"Shut up Brides head Revisited!" I roared. "Folks round here don't go in for all that highfalutin, rootin-tootin, cream teas on the village green rubbish. Folk round here are-hard. Aye, hard and gritty. Fallen women are lying everywhere.
Orphans abound and there's trouble at mill. The doffin spincters and shuttle grommits are out on strike. Not a wheel will turn at mill,'til workers get another farthing a week and gruel with the added ingredient- real gruel!"
"Well bend me over and spank me with a copy of, "Fox and Hounds," said Tommy.
"Won't those dirty, illiterate, ricket-legged paupers ever be satisfied?"
"Eeh you're hard Tommy cat," I said. "Hard as flint, but think on. Day is coming when workers will unite and people like Alex Maskey and Edwin Poots will sit in Stormont. AYE! sit in Stormont lad, with mufflers round their neck and hobnailed boots on their feet. You can't keep the working man down!" I yelled.
"POWER TO THE PEOPLE!"
Tommy took a pinch of Plumbridge snuff and said,
"And what will happen when the workers become the bosses?"
"SIMPLE!" I roared. "We will hire asylum seekers to do our work for a pittance and then lord it over THEM!"
"If it looks like a plan," said Tommy, "and swims like a plan, it is a plan."
"Heat up last year's soup," I growled.
"I'm going to kip to think on!"