Give me a bite baby!

Great show yesterday kid. Old, blind Pugh stumbled around pressing the dreaded, black spot into the hands of Ken and the Undertone. "AHOY ship mate!" yelled Mr Coyle, as he was helped into his chair by Emma. "Man on one, sighted off the main bow. Ho-Ho-Ho, and a bottle of blue nun." Emma brought Mr Coyle to his senses by hitting him repeatedly over the head with a rolled up copy of, "Pregnant and Proud."
Tommy my cat dropped lightly from the ceiling where he had been pretending to be Spiderman and said, "The Free State economy is in a bad state when Eamon Dunphy is reduced to flogging Kentucky Fried Chicken."
"I saw him!" I yelled. "I saw his big, ugly, reflected face saying, "Give me a bite baby."
"He was on the Late, Late show," said Tommy. "When asked by the brilliant Brian Turbidy why he sold out, Dumphy laughed with his new teeth and said, "They made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
"Johnny Giles, would never do that!" I yelled. "IF, heaven forbid, circumstances ever forced Johnny Giles into doing commercials on TV, Johnny Giles' honesty and gravitas would lead him into DIY products, or hardware appliances."
"I can see Johnny Giles now," said Tommy, "standing behind the counter of a hardware shop. Johnny, would stare into the camera, with both hands on the counter and say, "You want buckets? We got buckets! We got plastic buckets, iron buckets, zinc buckets, wooden buckets, even glass buckets. If you want buckets, we got buckets!"
"What a great pitch!" I yelled. "I feel compelled to run out and buy a bucket." Tommy snorted and said, "Eamon Dumphy, with his, "Give me a bite baby" really rattles my cage, bunches my shorts and curls my whiskers."
"What are you going to do about it?" I yelled to Noel Thompson, as he came out of the newsagents with the Exchange and Mart under his arm. "YES you, Mr Thompson. What are you going to do about it?" I roared. Noel glanced down at me and muttered, "Oh, it's you again, Les Miserable. What am I going to do about WHAT?" "How soon they forget," I said to a policeman, who was sleeping against the wall. "Last night, on Newsline, you, yes you, Mr Thompson predicted nothing but doom, gloom and despondency for the people of Ulster."
"I, am not responsible for the news," said Noel, "I merely report it."
"Not so fast Anchorman," I yelled. "Your, so called, reporting has the people of Ulster on the edge of a nervous breakdown. It would seem to me that the man who delivers all the bad news, has a moral duty to do something about it. So once again Mr Thompson, I say onto you, what are you going to do about it?"
Noel collapsed like a cheap suit and began to snivel, "I can't cure unemployment. I can't round up all the hoodies. I can't repair all the potholes on the M1."
"Perhaps not," I said. "In that case you should keep silent and not go scaring the good, Ulster folk. However, there is something you can do. Last night, you reported on a broken sewer pipe in Poleglass." I stood over Noel, until he dug up the old pipe and replaced it with a new one. As Noel staggered away, I yelled after him, "If you can't fix it, keep your mouth shut and that goes for Donna Traynor too."
I hear tonight's, "Newsline" is reduced to just three minutes. "Give me a bite baby! Give me a bite baby!"