Irishmen On Skis!

Great solo shows last week kid.
Great shows which sent the world's money markets into turmoil when it became known that Mr Coyle was being separated from his conjoined wallet.
"I'm going in!" cried Doctor Ripper. A swarm of ancient moths hit the doctor up the face and he was rushed to the maternity department where he gave birth to twin boys.
"Medicine has made great strides over the past ten minutes," said Doctor Ripper as he sat up in bed with a twin on each shoulder.
"SO!" said Tommy my cat. "As I predicted, America has lost its triple AAA credit rating."
"I'm afraid so," I replied. "There's no point phoning President Obama now if you find yourself broke by the roadside.". Tommy grabbed the phone and ordered his broker to move his ten pounds worth of Premium Bonds into gold Krugerrands. Tommy is a financial expert, a real Brian Cowan, without the arrogance and stupidity. I pulled an old black shawl over my head and cried, "What's going to become of us at all, at all, at all? 'Tis homeless we'll be, sitting by the side of the road eating nettles and dockens, and our menfolk boarding the boat to sail from Derry to Buncrana seeking work."
Tommy ran his hand over my face, checking for dust and said,
"Last week in the Dail,when asked if Ireland had enough money left to buy a fish supper, the bold Edna Kenny sprang to his feet, gave a Texas rebel yell and roared,
"THE SOUTH SHALL RISE AGAIN!"
"Rise again!" I yelled. "There's more chance, I say, there's more chance of the Titanic rising again!"
Tommy sprayed me all over with Pledge furniture polish and said,
"The South had their moment in the sun, their fifteen minutes of fame. I knew it was all over for the South when I first saw an Irishman on skis. An Irishman on skis is an affront to both God and nature. It's unnatural to see an Irishman on skis. An Irishman on skis is akin to seeing an Inuit on the moon, a Shinner wearing a poppy, or Tubby Nolan coming out of a clinic for anorexias."
"It's the way they stand," I cried,"upright and rigid, with the fear of God in their money-mad eyes!"
"If an Irishman must be seen on skis," roared Tommy, "let him sit! Let him sit like he would in a coracle. Times are bad," said Tommy. "But before we start blaming the banks, the credit crunch and reckless borrowing, let us remember the real reason we find ourselves in a doomsday situation is due entirely, ENTIRELY, to yuppie Irishmen, pissed on the piste wearing-skis!"
"So let it be written, so let it be done!" I cried, as I strapped on my Rottweiler lead and took myself for a walk.
Pooper-scooper??? I spit on your feelthy pooper-scooper!