Any Sign Of Recovery In The Free State?

Great shows last week kid. The Friday show caused uproar at Saint Bosco's Old Folks' Home when all the catheters came under the influence of the giant moon. A surging tide of urine engulfed the broom cupboard where the old folks go for a sedate snog. Two old codgers, who were getting it on, were swept out the front door and ended up in the middle of the street in a compromising position. As the dogs in the street ran for buckets of water, old blue haired Matti Harry yelled,"It was the moon! It was the MOON! The pull of the moon was tarra. I felt compelled to conjoin with old, bald, humpy Geraldo from ward 6." Old Geraldo, staggered to his feet and croaked, "It's a fair cop Guv. NEVER! has a man given so much for so little!" Both old codgers were dragged away and hung by the heels in the cold storage room. Tommy my cat, who was building a replica of the grand Titanic staircase out of egg cartons, turned and said, "Any signs of the green shoots of recovery in the Free State yet?" "None at all," I said as I watched a busy Lizzy scrub her doorstep at the other side of the street. Tommy added another egg carton and said, "The first sign of recovery in the free state will be the contentious and contemptible sight of Irish men and woman sking down the piste in Austria." "The Irish should not-ski!" I cried. "It is unnatural! An affront to God and man. To see an Irish man on skis is akin to seeing a dog playing a banjo, or Michael McGimpsey laughing." "I do so agree," said Tommy. "God made the Irish to be-plodders, heavy footed. The Irish man is not built for speed. He was fashioned from clay to plod after a horse and plough." "Do you know her at number 27?" I said. "Her with the bad perm and the rusty mangle in the back yard. Well, she told me, that someone told her, that the Irish were the laughing stock of the sking set. People were laughing and pointing as Paddy, came flying down the sky slope, blowing his nose with his fingers and trying to light a pipe! She said one old codger, wearing all the latest designer gear, came down the slope backwards, leaving a yellow trail behind him!" "You don't mean!!!" cried Tommy. "YES!" I yelled. "The old codger was having a piss on the piste!!!" "Well, I'll go to the foot of the Titanic staircase!" said Tommy.