Nothing to Do Now But Wait For A Sign From Paul Clarke or Sarah Travers

Great show yesterday kid. Tommy my cat, came away from the window muttering,

"If rioting were an Olympic sport............"

"Shut your big mouth!" I yelled. "You know the rules. No talk about religion, politics, sport, or Steven Nolan in this house. If you must talk about something, talk about the early morning beauty of Julie Goodyear and Coleen Nolan in Celebrity Big Brother."

"Grey faced bags," snapped Tommy, "with all the allure of soggy chips on a wet Monday morning!"

"Why do they do it?" I cried. "Why do they debase themselves by living in a goldfish bowl for the titillation of the great unwashed?"

"Money!" said Tommy. "For some, it is a last throw of the dice. Oh how sad, to see the once chipper, pink-faced, cherub, Julian Clary, turn before our eyes into Rigsby from Rising Damp. He shuffles round the house in ill fitting cardigan, bedroom slippers, dead behind the eyes, muttering, "I miss my wee dog, I wonder if she misses me?"

"Any woman," I roared, "who believes in anti ageing cream, should take a good look at the grey, putty face of Julie Goodyear! A zombie!" I yelled. "It will take more, I say, it will take more than leopard skin to bring the sparkle back to old Bet Lynch!".

"Leave them!" said Tommy. "They are irrelevant." 

Tommy blushed and said, "I must confess to having a crush on blonde, beauty, Sarah Travers."

"You could do worse," I replied. "Sarah is a fine and fair maiden. Lovely hair and complexion and I hear she whips up a mean steak and kidney pie." 

Tommy, looked at me, giggled and said, "Have you still got a "Thing" for Paul Clarke?"

I blushed to the roots of my hair extensions, fluttered my hands, knocked my knees together and replied, "The greyer that little newshound gets, the more I love him. Oh, how I would love to kiss his breaking news mouth and press him close to my cameo brooch. Hold him, enfold him, never let him go, until the sun goes out and the stars fall from the heavens like skin flakes from Julie Goodyear's face."

"How romantic AND poetic!" said Tommy. "You must have got it bad."

 "I have got it bad!" I yelled. "I have never had it badder. Under this olive-green body warmer, six ganseys and four simmets, beats a heart.

A heart, fair bursting with love, affection and cholesterol for little Paulie Clarke. OH, PAUL!" I screamed, "OH, PAUL! Give me a sign! If you really love me, comb your hair over your eyes when you present, "UTV Live Extra" tonight, or wear a Hitler moustache and I will know that you love me too!"

"OH, Sarah Travers!" roared Tommy. "Give ME a sign! Dye your hair ginger, when you read the news tonight, or wear a black eyepatch over your right eye!" 

Nothing to do now but wait. Will one of us, perhaps both of us, get our prayers answered by a ginger haired Sarah Travers and a Hitler moustached, Paul Clarke.  Stranger things have happened!