So You Want To Be The Leader Of The UUP?

Great show yesterday kid. A great show which made Mike Nesbitt think twice about running for the leadership of the UUP. After reading a heart-breaking petition from his chickens, pleading not to run, Mike told Rodney the rooster,
"I like hanging out with you guys. I love the clucking and clocking and the way the eggs pop out like little, white, rugby balls, but I have to think of my career. Sure it's fun rolling around with you guys in the dirt, under the apple tree, but if Ulster goes back to the crossroads, I want to be there calling for clarity and transparency and make sure that all agreements are copper fastened."
Rodney went over to a sandy spot and wrote with his beak, "David Trimble-Kaput! Sir Reg Empey, Kaput. Tom Elliott, Kaput. Mike Nesbitt, could also end up Kaputed!"
"Rodney," said Mike. "You have given me food for thought. I'll lay down under the apple tree. I got me a heap full of thinking to do."
Tommy, my cat, put his pink, clockwork mouse in his pocket and said, "Kudos to Janet for putting Mr Coyle in his place, when she told the nation that Mr Coyle was a bare faced liar."
"Gerry scare Janet?" I yelled. "Never, Trevor, Never!Gerry may be many things, but he is not a scarer of Janets!"
"The eyebrow is up to his old tricks," said Tommy. "He spends ever second of the show trying to malign Gerry. J'accuse Mr Coyle of being an unrepentant, serial maligner."
"He must be stopped!" I yelled. "Nuala O'Loane, must be called in to expose the eyebrow for what he is!"
Tommy stormed about, his little face red with anger and literally shrieked, "Put Coylers in the stocks! When the people see his big face staring out, he will get more than five pieces of fruit."
"Nice one Tommy," I said. "Give me a high five and a gangsta fist bump."
Tommy and I are cool when it comes to modern, hip talk. We use words and phrases like, "End off, Whatever! Wicked. Sorted! You betcha! Tickety-Boo and keep her lit".
Tommy unpeeled a banana, took a bite, zipped it up again and whispered soft and low, "I was talking to the lovely, tanned, Julian Symmons last night. Old Jaffa head told me that UTV, will soon be screening a new reality show called,
"SO, you want to be the leader of the UUP!"
"Goodie-goodie!" I cried. "Do you know any of the contestants?"
"The usual suspects," said Tommy. "John McCririck, Vanessa Feltz, the drummer out of Mud and a guy from Northern Ireland called, John McCallister."
"Never heard of him," I said. "Any American rappers? You can't have a reality show without a rapper. My favourite rapper is, Ice Lolly."
"No rappers," said Tommy. "But Julian said, there may be a few surprise canditates from Northern Ireland which may surprise you."
"John Daly!!" I cried. "That explains why the dome has been keeping a low profile."
Tommy sighed and said, "No matter how hard I try, my mind keeps going back to poor, old, Tom Elliott. The last I heard, old Tom had bought a banjo and was spending all his time sitting on the porch steps a plinking an a whittling."
"Old Tom, is still on a political high," I said. "In time, the aroma of cow dung will erase all memories of Stormont."
Tommy sighed again and said, "Will we never hear his exciting, exhilarating, silver-tounged oratory again?"
"No," I said sadly. "Only the cows and the hogs, the cats and the dogs, will ever hear Tom Elliott again!"
"Bummer!" said Tommy, pointing at my derriere.