In Other Words.

"What a great show that was!" said Tommy my cat. "And what a lot of subjects were covered. Poetry, swans, Gerry's great love for his fellow man, Mr Coyle's pussy phobia and how hateful and awful Steven Nolan is."
I coughed. Tommy said, "What's up? Is a small doctor examining you below the Mason, Dixon line?"
"Don't be crude!" I yelled. "Sometimes you can be as crude as Iranian oil, which we ain't going to get no more, thanks to Porgy and Bess, Aka William Hague and David Cameron. If you must know," I said, "I have something stuck in my craw."
"Spit it out," said Tommy. "Don't stand there like Tubby Nolan without a pie in his hand."
"The reason for my blocked craw," I said, "is-COYLE!" Suddenly the sky darkened. A flash of lightening split the heavens and a busker played a discordant, Hammer House of Horror chord on a mouth organ. Tommy blessed himself with some holy water from the river Boyne and said through chattering teeth, "We promised never to mention that name in this house."
"I have to!" I yelled. "Coyle's interrupting is one thing, but when he disagrees with every thing Gerry says, well, he's walking on the fighting side of me."
"You're right!" cried Tommy. "Or as they would say in Eastenders, "Hoi son, come 'ere you Muppet. You wuz bang,right out of order there!"
"OR," said Tommy, "if we were in Coronation Street, it would be, "Nay lad. Nay, nay lad. Stop mithering our Gerry. Go to foot of stairs and think on!"
"OR," said Tommy, "If it was Fair City, it would be, "AH, come on Charley. Another auld pint won't hurt you, by janey, begorragh and be jesus."
"OR," said Tommy, "if it was Hollyoaks, it would be, "I think Jason likes me, he vomited all over me last night."
"IT must STOP!" I yelled. "Mr Coyle must allow Gerry to tell a story without roaring. "There's nothing about that! I don't believe a word of it, or, AAH, your drawers!" "A time is coming," I said. "Oh, yes my friends, a time is coming, when Gerry will say, "Good morning ladies and gentlemen, my name is, Gerald Michael Anderson and Mr Coyle will roar, "Ah, your drawers! There's not one word of truth in that statement. You're a liar! I demand to see your birth certificate and a photograph of you with Gerald Michael Anderson."
"The Twilight Zone," said Tommy. "Mr Coyle is talking us into a place where time doesn't exist. A place where the truth is bent and twisted like a licorice stick. A place where the one-eyed man is King. A place known as, The Twilight Zone."
Frightened beyond belief, I was too scared to concur!!!