A Duel For The Irish Presidency.

Great show yesterday kid.
A great show in which old Jordie proposed, YET AGAIN!, leaving out bowls of beer to make snails and slugs blind drunk. "Is there not enough carnage on the roads Mr Tuft? Do you expect our hardpressed emergency services to rush to the scene of every accident involving a drunk snail, or slug? And who will donate the blood needed Mr Tuft-YOU? I thought not! What I say to you Mr Tuft is, go home, light a good fire and prepare for the fire brigade."
"That settled his hash," said Tommy my cat, sitting at the breakfast table, masticating furiously at a turgid heap of Snap Crackle and Pop. Tommy burped, got up, hit me a massive whack on the head with a silver, Georgian teapot and yelled, "Have YOU had an accident recently? Go to Claims Direct and you could get a nice little packet if you are prepared to lie your head off in the witness box."
I punched Tommy up the gub and cried, "Are you embarrassed by loose false teeth falling into your soup at dinner parties? Then YOU need Mrs Fixit's Farrier kit. Just four nails hammered into your upper and lower mouth will secure your dentures. Guaranteed to bite through steel, glass, plastic, wood and very strong, stubborn cardboard."
While I sat down to fill in a Claims Direct form, Tommy ran to the chemist for a Mrs Fixit's Farrier kit.
Tommy came away from the window where he had been counting ginger-haired winos and said,
"I feel it incumbent on me to reduce by 50% the number of people from Derry running for the Irish presidency."
"WHY???" I yelled to the coat bucket."Why is my little Tommy always two steps ahead of the crowd?"
"I propose a duel," said Tommy, "a paintball duel between Dana and Martin McGuinness, said duel to be held in Croke Park and televised by RTE. The first person hit will withdraw and the winner will go on to the grand final."
The coal bucket looked at me with a, "what a cat!" look on its zinc face.
"Tommy," I said, "could you tell me in minute and graphic detail what the President of Ireland does?"
Tommy picked up the Cairo Chronicle and replied, "Nothing! Zilch! Diddly-Squat!"
I winked at the coal bucket and said,
"Hence the stampede seeking the position!"