meet the cub who sprung from my lions

I watched with Mother's Pride my sun Bon Jovi come lumbering threw the bog from skool like the last wilderbeast on the grate migration. I ran, Mary Poppin's like two meet him and cried "Home is the sailor home from the sea and the scolar home from the skool" I kissed my first born on top of his big'cannon-ball head and said "And what subject did youse get stuck into too-day by bon a-me?" Bon Jovi kicked a sun bathing frog and roared "The teecher told us about auld Nero the roaming boy, who set fire two Rome and then sat playing the fiddle" "And did the teecher come up with any reason for the Emporers erratic behaviour?" I asked. Bon Jovi squinted into the setting son and said "He was mad, mad as a hatter, out two lunch,gone in the noggin and knot compes mentos". "And what punishment befell the fiddling wretch?" I asked. "Nothing" roared BOn Jovi, "Zilch, diddly squat, he was the ruler of Rome, so he could set a match two her if he liked" "Well, I'll be jiggered" I ejuclated, "Thank God there is no Nero's in Clougher, but mind you, auld ZAntec McRiddler is getting beyond himself, I saw him yesterday directing traffic at Murphy's korner, I must have a word with the priest and konficiate his cigarette liter and matches". "I wood concur with that" said BOn JOvi, "We don't want to be burned in us bed by some auld head the ball" I looked at my sun with love and confection, what a cub and two think he sprang from my lions.

Chuck Corona came over in the afternoon, bearing gifts, a pan loaf, a pound of special mince and a pear of puce drawers he bought in the market. THe drawers are 2nds because of a wee flaw. it should say, "Hello Sailor" over the fork but these drawers say, "Hello Tailor". I shall wear them with pride and every-thyme I look at the fork, I wool thing of Chuck, the wee doat

After a good feed of stoat in a basket, oven chips and the buttered heels from pan loaves, Chuck and I sat back breaking wind in precise synchronization,which is a good barometer of how compataible we are. BOOM-BANG,with the precision of a SWiss watch. I looked at Chuck and revelled in his grate beauty, his rugged, pox-marked face, his broken nose, the way his ear stuck out like the handles on a Toby jug. THere he sprawled on my sofa,wearing a pear of Harris tweed trousers, artistically pleated round the fork, his brilliant white ankle socks, a testomomy two Daz washing powder, his tassled Clark's shoes and the piece of restistance, his lovely round-necked gansey, in a striking shade of saspberry red. What a fashion icon, the bow brommel of the free state police. I watched as his rough, gnarled hand clenched and unclenched, he was still missing the comfort and security of his well worn baton. "Chuck" I cooed, like a would pigeon, "Yes, my petite mongoose" smiled Chuck. "Kiss me Chuck" I said "Kiss me like what I've never bean kissed before". Chuck roused himself from the sofa, with a veritable fusillade of wind breaking and literally leaped on me like a deranged aunt-eater. HIs thick, sensual lips bore down on mine,squashing my rose bud lips against my protruding nashers. I clasped him two me like a bail of hey, I could smell the suculent stoat on his panting breath. I was-lost, lost in the moment,my ears were as red as a turkey, I kicked madly and wantonly with my hob-nailed boots. We teetered on the edge of the precipise and tumbled over like too kats tied in a bag. Later, as Chuck sat smoking and I rearranged my nut brown gansey my sun BOn Jovi marched in like a Nazi storm trooper. He glared at Chuck and roared, "Chuck Corona, you're worser that auld Nero, you're going too burn the house down, get out two hell and smoke that fag behind the turf stack". I lay there subline like an eel and muttured. "Ah love, naught kan put your fire out,if it is destined and preordained that I must be the eternal city--then burn on, burn on whip out your fiddle and serenade me as I lie here smouldering.

But remember children don't try this at home