The Hermit Syndrome.

Great show yesterday kid. A great show which made a furious Gregory Campbell yell, "Why is no one occupying the grounds of the Vatican Hi? Why are there no tents outside the Pope's window?" But let's draw a line under that.
Tommy my cat, put on a powdered wig and said, to a small, parish urchin who was peering in the window, "BOY! I say, boy! Run to the apothecary and get me a pint of laudanum, two tinctures of mercury and a box of mansize tissues. I feel an ague coming on." The small boy hit Tommy a thump up the hooter and cried, "What did your last, small, parish urchin die off?"
"Wretched child," muttered Tommy, as his nose bled like a drain.
"WHY?" I yelled into the dismal, darkness of a Belfast street. "WHY does old Jordie Tuft inspire such confidence in sane, intelligent people?
"It's the hermit Syndrome," said Tommy. "Since the dawn of time, people have convinced themselves that old codgers, living alone, are fonts of wisdom and wise sage-like figures. Kings have lavished gold on old codgers living in caves who couldn't tell you what day of the week it was. It is a security blanket," I cried. "Knowing not the answer ourselves, we think an old headbanger living in the wilds, wearing animal skins, can answer our quest for knowledge."
"I visited an old hermit-stroke-oracle," said Tommy. "I found him living down a well, eating nothing but weeds and mud. OH, great wise one," I hollered down, "why do you live in a well, cut off from home, family and society?"
"In a shrill, piping voice the aged one answered, "Because I can't fill in a DLA form you ugly tube!"
"It is a universal condition," I said. "We, who know nothing, like to think the Gods have given all knowledge to crazy, old fools, who never wash or comb their hair and smell like rancid stoats."
"Then we must be stupid!" yelled Tommy.
"We are!" I said. "It is part of the human condition to be stupid and to seek out old coffin-fodder looking for the meaning of life."
"What a world!" said Tommy. "Is it any wonder Queen's University is handing out phds to any Tom, Dick, or Darren Clarke?"
"Never mind," I said. "Let's open two tins of condensed milk and get the Ludo board out."
"Splendito!" cried Tommy. "A reason for life if ever there was one!!!"