Gangs and The Killer Queen

Great show to kick the week off kid. Mr Coyle seems in good nick, thanks to a combination of prayer and monkey glands. And the periodic screams and rattling the bars of his cage, did not impinge on the quality of the show in any way. Tommy my cat, friend, companion, next of kin and the son I never had said, "Just came from Stormont. Things are really buzzing up there! There they all were, out on the lawn, running, skipping, leaping and generaly having a good old time. In the corner of the play ground stood Jim Allister, like a young, surly, red faced Marlon Brando. "Hey, easy rider!" I said. "Why don't you join in the fun. Put this rope around your neck and I'll show you how to skip." "Look at them!" spat Jim. "Look at Sinn Fein and the DUP, holding hands while singing, "Ring a ring a rosy, Jim's got a great big nosey!" "Then things took a nasty turn when Sammy Wilson and Martin McGuinness sauntered up to Jim and demanded his dinner money. "So much for parity of esteem!" shrieked Jim, as he handed over 78 pence and a lint-coated brandy ball. "You got to join a gang Jim!" I said. "You can't exist on your own. Ask that nice, hairy David Ford if you can join his gang." "I am a rebel!" screamed Jim. "A maverick, a loose cannon. I am the Lone Ranger, minus Tonto. I am the ghost at the banquet, the watcher at the gate and the fool on the hill." Then.. the notorious, SDLP gang began to edge towards Jim. Jim took to his heels yelling, "I'm going to tell Mr Speaker about you!" "Alex Attwood laughed like a Mexican and said, "Speaker? We don't want your feelthy-Speaker." Mark Durkin threw back his head, laughed for eight and a half minutes and drawled, "Senor, the reality is, we are outlaws. If you want inlaws, go visit your ugly mother in law." I shook my head and said, "That nice Mark Durkin has gone to the dogs, woof-woof, every since he stopped reading, "The Messenger". Tommy, sprayed Pledge furniture on a small Norwegian dwarf, polished him up to a high lusture shine and said, "Isn't she lovely? So graceful, so regal." "You talking about the Queen?" I asked. "NO!" yelled Tommy sarcasticaly, "I was talking about May McFetridge! Of Course I'm talking about the Queen. Apparently when she met Lord Ken Maginnis in Enniskillen yesterday, she grabbed the rural knight by the lapels and yelled, "Oi, walrus face, Keep your big hooter out of the sexual orientation of my subjects, or I'll get Phil and the boys to whip your sorry ass. Capiche!!!" I wiped a spec of dust from the Norwegian dwarf and went out singing, "Caviar and cigarettes Well versed in etiquette Very fond of Corgie pets She's a killer Queen!"