Have We Enough Sprouts?

Great shows last week kid.
Great shows which made people ask, "Why is Alex Atwood always on TV recently? Is he taking advantage of Alasdair McDonnell's fear of bright lights?" I put that question to former SDLP leader Mark Durkin who said,
"The reality is, Alex Atwood is a fly, little skitter, who is always on the look out for a camera crew. When I was leader, the reality is, I used to hobble Atwood's feet like a circus pony to keep him from breaking into a gallop when he saw Ken Reid or Martina Purdy."
"Mark," I said. "Dear lovely Mark Durkin, do you miss the cut and thrust of premiership politics?"
"Indeed I do not!" said Mark "The reality is, I'm quite happy sitting at home in Derry. The reality is, is that the reality will always be-is. Knowing the reality will always be is, I am not going to upset the applecart, by claiming that the reality is this,that or the other, when I know fine well that the reality-is!" What a fine political brain, calling out for a home in a laboratory specimen jar.
Tommy my cat came in with yet another wheel barrow of brussel sprouts, tumbled them out in the corner and said,
"Is that all, or should I fetch in another load?"
"How many sprouts are in that pile?" I asked.
"517," replied Tommy.
"Bring in one more sprout," I said. "We don't want to end up fighting over the last sprout, or having to cut it in half."
"Good thinking," said Tommy. "That's why MENSA sent you a funny Christmas card. When you opened it up, two fingers shot out."
I looked around my tinseled hovel and said, "This is going to be the best Christmas EVER! We have a plump turkey, a fat plum pud, 2 gallon of cranberry sauce, a zinc bucket full of trifle, a stone of Flemish stuffing and 307 Christmas crackers. Now, what about our Christmas DVDs?"
"On the mantelpiece SIR! ready for inserting SIR!" yelled Tommy.
I sat down on a gnome and said, "Read out the titles Tommy. Everything must be perfect." Tommy cleaned his reading glasses with my tongue and yelled,
"The dog who saved Christmas. Wild trouble and strife at Christmas. My granny died at Christmas. Santa gets clamped at Christmas. Black plague strikes at Christmas. OH! what a cruel Christmas. The town that died from food poisoning at Christmas and Who shot Santa on Christmas Eve?"
"Tommy, Tommy," I chided, "No Christmas Carol?"
"I hate that film!" roared Tommy. "Why should an old miser be forgiven for buying ONE turkey on Christmas morning? And another thing," yelled Tommy, "if the turkey was SO great, why was it not sold BEFORE Christmas day?"
Two and a half hours. That's how long it took me to throw 517 brussel sprouts at a retreating cat with no respect for Christmas!