Poor Mike Nesbitt!

Great show yesterday kid. In spite of a multitude of prayers from all over
Northern Ireland, Mr Coyle turned up before the 11 o'clock news. "Is this
why my granny fell at Ypres?" yelled an old codger, as he threw a one kilo
bag Of McKinney's, pure and natural granulated sugar at his radio. (You can
pick up McKinny's sugar at any good supermarket, or go to Sandyford
Business Estate, Dublin 18. McKinney's is part of the Nordzucker company.)
I looked at Tommy my cat who was weaving a wickerwork teapot and said, "Did
you see David McNarry on TV last night?"
"STOP!" roared Tommy. "Enough with the old David McNarry talk. The world does not revolve around David McNarry, or farmer Tom Elliott. Do not intrude on private grief. Leave the UUP to sort out their own shambles. It is not for you or I to meddle in the boring, self induced wounds which afflict a party in decline."
After rumination, I concurred with vigor and 100% 24 caret enthusiasm.
Later that night, Tommy and I were standing at the door with a pile of
stones at our feet. We were both ready to open fire if the pesky, Aurora Borealis appeared. Round the corner came a smiling Mike Nesbitt. Mike smiled at us like
a man who was looking for something and said, "I hope I can depend on you two
come the next election?"
"Of course you can Mr Nesbitt," I gushed.
"Not so fast!" yelled Tommy. "What are you going to do for US?"
Mike pulled out a UUP ukulele and began to sing,
"OH, I'd do anything, for you dear, anything, I'd do anything, anything for you." "Congratulations Mr Nesbitt," I cried, "on becoming the assistant,deputy,
second in command, assistant on the education committee."
"Mike smiled and said, "First rung on the ladder, just got to keep climbing."
As Mike walked away whistling "House Bound Honey" Tommy shook
his head and said, "How sad to see Mike Nesbitt, brought down so low. Once he was a media star and now he is reduced to begging for votes from the likes of me and you."
"Scum!" I said.
"The dregs of society," said Tommy.
"The down and outers!" I yelled.
"The untouchables," cried
Tommy.
"The lowest of the low!" I roared.
"Rat bags," screamed Tommy.
"Complete wasters," I shrieked.
"Poor Mike Nesbitt," said Tommy,"forced to
consort with the likes of US!"
When Tommy and I went indoors, we thought we saw an
elephant in the room, but it was only, David McNarry!.