Our Rory.Coming Soon To A Cinema Near You.

Great shows last week kid.
Great shows which kept piling the pressure onto the frail Scottish shoulders of tennis player Andy Murray until he lost the heid and collapsed like a cheap kilt.
I looked at Tommy my cat who was sitting polishing his extensive collection of surgical instruments.
Tommy removed my appendix one night, gave it a thorough cleaning, oiled the hinges and replaced it in the blink of an eye. And no nasty, ugly stitches. I stood outside the door and Tommy operated through the keyhole. Yes! Tommy invented key hole surgery.If I ever need a fifth frontal lobotomy I will put my head into the capable, healing hands of doctor Tommy Cat.
Tommy grabbed a passing mouse, lanced a boil on the back of its neck and said,
"Steven Speilberg is going to make a film about Rory McIlory. The film will be called, "Our Rory" and Jimmy Nesbitt will play the golfing legend."
"Well he's certainly got the hair for it," I said. "The last time I saw him he looked like a white Jimmy Hendrix."
"I saw a copy of the script," said Tommy. It follows the old, tried and tested Irish formula. Rory McElory, in the shape of Jimmy Nesbitt, will be challenged to a game of golf by Brian the King of the faeries. If Rory wins he gets a crock of gold, but should he lose, Rory will be condemned to sit for all eternity on the "One Show" sofa talking about what might have been."
"How does it end Tommy?" I shrieked. "Does curly Rory win the crock of gold?"
"That I can not tell you," said Tommy. "The last few pages of the script were missing, but I can say this, there will be plenty of Darby O'Gill shenanigans and donkey loads of lovable, Irish whimsy. The film abounds with fiddle playing, Irish dancing and enough, diddly-dee to satisfy any green-blooded Irishman."
"A sure-fire Oscar winner!" I yelled as I toppled the dresser and danced a frantic, frenetic Irish jig to the sound of breaking delft.