Bring Back Melody!

Great show yesterday kid. With unrestrained gusto, Mr Coyle got stuck into, "Dellaware" like a man who was searching frantically for his lost childhood. "THAT!" said Tommy my cat, is the sound of a flower child, trying to return to Strawberry Fields." "Take me home country roads!" I yelled. Tommy roared, "Down with hip-hop, rap, garage, grunge and house music! Bring back, Melody!" screamed Tommy. "Give me something I can whistle. Phrasing!" yelled Tommy. "A nice chord progression, a restrained drummer and a horn section, wearing snappy suits and giving off the whiff of grade A cannabis. Beautiful ladies, wearing evening dresses, men in tuxedoes and an absence of trainers, jeans and tattooed faces." "No slappers wearing mini skirts," I cried "which fail to hide thongs, many of which have disappeared up the great divide!" Tommy and I have an unusual way of watching TV. We place the TV in the centre of the room and Tommy watches the screen, while I sit on a milkmaid's stool watching the back. It's a brilliant system I came up with myself, after hearing that strange things happen at the back of TVs. While I watched a scart socket Tommy said, "Look who's on the Tubby Nolan show! Old Edwina Curry. I thought that old bag was dead, buried and forgotten." "What's she saying Tommy?" I yelled from the back of the TV. "She's telling us, the people of Northern Ireland, that we've never had it so good. She says, stop whinging. Start up small businesses. Get on your bike and stop complaining. OH, IT'S ALL KICKING OFF NOW!" yelled Tommy. "Some union members are on their feet. They are not pleased. They are yelling at old John Major's bit on the side, "GO HOME!" they roar. "Shut your big mouth!" "Do you want a riser?" yells another one. NOW, Tubby has intervened. "Shut up, or GET OUT!" he bellows. Oh dear! Oh, dear! Tubby Nolan has shown his true colours. He has denied free speech to the workers and taken sides with old Edwina, who is painted up like a new cart and smirking something horribly." "I KNEW IT!" I cried. "Tubby is a Tory. He has no time for the working man. Tubby Nolan has turned into Ulster's version of Boris Johnson. I bet Tubby hopes to run for parliament in a safe seat in the shires." "BOO!" yelled Tommy, from the front of the screen. "LACKEY!" I screamed at the scart socket. Tommy smirked and said, "One thing is sure, the police will open the big gate for Tubby and his bicycle. The oval one, would never get through the side gate outside, number 10.". Never taking my eyes of the scart socket, I laughed like a drain. Ha-Ha, gurgle-gurgle ha-ha.