Assmosis!!

Great show yesterday kid and, Congratulations! on being the number one radio show for single women in the 21-34 age group, who stay in on Saturday nights to wash their Hereford cattle. Getting a cow into a shower is a precise maneuver which requires patience and much frenzied activity from the left lobe of the brain. Tommy my cat wrote,"Repeats", on the giant blackboard, turned to the assembled me and said. "Today class we will discuss television repeats, sometimes called, re-runs. If we go back in time, we find repeats/re-runs, were palmed off on an unsuspecting public as, "Another chance to see!" NOW!" yelled Tommy, "The Illuminati, who manipulate our brains, have come up with a new wheeze. Re-runs/repeats, are now branded as, "Classic Episodes!" So, we now have, Classic, Who wants to be a Millionaire. Classic, Fools and Horses and of course, Classic, Classic cars. Where will it all end?" screamed Tommy. "What will be the next marketing ploy to foist off old rubbish on the general, sergeant and private public?" I put up my leg and cried, "Please Sir, as the first and only Northern Ireland brain donor may I make a suggestion? All the voices in my head and I agree that television moguls will stop at nowt. The next marketing ploy will be anonymous emails and phone calls threatening people to watch, such and such, or bad men will come in the middle of the night to behead your garden gnomes and place cling film over your letterbox." "Get out of this classroom!" yelled Tommy. "And take your Simpson's schoolbag with you!" I stood out in the hall, listening to Tommy speak to an empty room with authority and oratory, bordering on genius. What a cat! And he can also whip up a mean tortiera di cozze. After a light supper of lard balls and chocolate, Tommy wiped his lips, took a delicate sip of Buckfast wine and said, "Did you know that a terrible plague is sweeping the western world?" "PLAGUE!" I screamed, running to the door and yelling, "Bring out your dead!" "This plague is called Assmosis and it's very infectious," said Tommy. "In theory, if you stand close to someone with a big ass, your ass will grow bigger, attracted by the gravity of the bigger ass.". I grabbed my ass in both hands and ran to a mirror. No signs of Assmosis yet! There I stood, with two hips on me as lean as a starved greyhound. "Tell me more Tommy!" I screamed. "I don't want to have an ass as big as the back of a bus, which never turns up on time!" "The only precaution," said Tommy, "is to stay away from people with big asses." I blanched, turned white, shook all over and screamed, "Tubby Nolan, is coming here tomorrow night to collect the Christmas club money! What shall I do? If I stand close to Tubby, my ass will expand like a Goodyear blimp!" "Push the money under the door," said Tommy, "and hold a heavy, expensive, industrial magnet next to your ass, to help fight the gravitational pull of Tubby's massive rear." I ran to the phone to order a magnet--then, I stopped and said, "Hauld on! Hauld on! You're taking a hand at me. I went to Sunday school. I read about Assmosis in the bible. He was the boy who parted the Red Sea, so William of Orange, could cross the Boyne and sign the Ulster Covenant, with a swan's feather. You had me going there!" I said to Tommy. Assmosis, indeed! Assmosis, my ass!