What Is The Big Question?

Alas, all good things must come to an end. HE'S BACK!!! It;s THAT man again! Mr Coyle, bat lover and vigorous, vigilante is back! Tommy, my cat, threw himself on the floor, kicked his little legs, screamed like a banshee with toothache and yelled, "Home is the sailor, home from the sea and the interrupter, home from the beach!" "He may have changed," I said. "Mr Coyle may have had an Epiphany. He may come back renewed, revigorated, with a new charismatic outlook on life." My hopes were dashed when Mr Coyle went into a long monologue about slippery Winter roads. I looked at Tommy and said, "Go home, and prepare for the Status Quo!" Tommy glared at me from under his eyebrows, like a certain member of the Gestapo and yelled, "OI! Will Martin McGuinness and the Queen shake hands?" I went on ironing my catholic, mason's apron and said, "In my day, the big question used to be, Will Liston, shake Ali's hand?" "Let's hope it doesn't come to fisticuffs," said Tommy. "I fear Martin McGuinness would be bewitched, bothered and bewildered by the Queen's lightening, fast footwork." Parroting every politician, with the sole exception of Jim Allister, I said. "We have come a long way. We still have a long way to go, but we shall never return to the bad, old days. The reality is, hate, violence and bloodshed is the sole prerogative of husband and wife. Violence has a place!" I cried. "But violence should be confined to the bedroom and not allowed to spill onto the streets." Tommy clapped his hands and cried, "That answer should be translated into Latin and inscribed on ever toilet seat at Stormount." "Half of the bums can't read!" I muttered. "Question number two!" yelled Tommy. "What is society going to do with the NEW!, IMPROVED!, Spring fresh, Jordie Tuft?" "The answer is simple!" I roared. "Dapper, shaved napper, Jordie Tuft, must be made a roving Ambassador-Immediately. The new Jordie, would command cross party support to junket to Alaska and Syria, drumming up support for the shipbuilding industry, linen teatowels and fresh baps." "Let me be the first to second that!" cried Tommy. "Just think," said Tommy. "Not that long ago, this used to be the build up to the battle of Drumcree. People used to get in such a fuss over the Garvaghy road. I really must take a trip to see the famous Garvaghy road." "It's not there," I said. "What's not there?" yelled Tommy. "The Garvaghy road," I replied. "It was taken up and is now a prized exhibit in the Ulster History museum." Tommy sat down, held his head in his hands and said, "No Garvaghy road. No Titanic. No Showbands. No Nolan light. This country is going to the dogs." "Woof-Woof!" said my next door neighbour, who can't afford to keep a dog. Like my neighbour says, "Why buy a dog when you can bark yourself!" Logic! That's what that is. Stone, cold logic, from a woman who has greatly improved after six years'electric shock treatment.