Regrets and Custard Creams.

Great show yesterday kid. A great show which nearly brought a smile to the face of Michael McGimpsey, as he sat beside a dead Christmas tree decorated with two black balloons and a black armband instead of a fairy. Michael, shivering from the cold, drew a tattered shroud around him, peered into his crystal ball and moaned, "In the year 2012, I foresee doom, gloom, more doom and Jim Allister. Oh, dearie me! Oh, dearie me!" Michael, went back to polishing a gleaming, oak coffin and muttered, "The older I get the more I regret leaving Miss Gertie Haversham standing at the altar. Oh dearie me. Oh dearie me. It's only being so cheerful that keeps me going."
"BANG!" I jumped as Tommy my cat opened a plastic bubble containing his new toothbrush with a controlled explosion.
"Tommy," I said. "As long as you've got the Semtex out, please open a packet of air-tight, shock resistant, hobnobs for tea."
"Ja Mien Fuhrer!" roared Tommy. Sometimes I think Tommy may be an unrepentant NAZI. Small things make me think that, the way he struts about and the Panzer tank hidden in his bedroom. I decided to question Herr Tommy. "Tommy," I said. "Give me a word or phrase that would sum up Adolf Hitler."
Tommy sprang to his feet, stood smartly to attention, stuck his right arm up in the air and yelled out in a guttural voice, "High spirited!" I could have kicked myself for thinking little Tommy was a spy. Tommy's not a NAZI, he's a member of the golf club AND a practicing Catholic!
I found Hugo Duncan, being measured for a gold lame bathrobe in "Tiny Tim's" clothes for big boys and short men. "Hey, little man from Strabane," I yelled, "what have you been up to?"
Hugo gave me a low five and said, "When you're my size you don't get up to much. On my honeymoon, my wife had to lift me up to put out the light."
"Listen up, Shorty," I said. "You must remember Gerry Anderson going round Strabane in a wee van when he worked for social services."
"Did you say-worked?" roared Hugo. "I'll tell you what Anderson did in Strabane. Like a jackal he sniffed out all the auld wans in Strabane who were lonely. Once Anderson got his foot in the door he never left. Lying back smoking and eating the old dears out of house and home. He was a locust!" yelled Hugo. "A locust! When Anderson came to Strabane it was a thriving, middle-class town. By the time Anderson left it was a rundown slum with the highest unemployment rate in Europe."
Then Tiny Tim interjected to ask, "Mr Duncan, which side do you dress to?"
Hugo gave a leap and cried, "That's the Belfast boys for you. They can't wait to know your religion. "I'm a catholic!" roared Hugo, as he stormed out. "I'm a catholic and I dress right down the middle like the pope and the concave of holy cardinals."
"Touchy, little titch," said Tiny Tim.
"You must forgive him," I said. "Gerry Anderson, ate all his mother's custard creams."
"Ah! the day of the jackal," said Tiny Tim. "A time of great sorrow and hardship for the poor working class of Strabane."