FAIR DAMSON KONFINED TWO SHI-OUT HOUSE

It was with fierce gaiete de cour, that your 'umble korrespondant skipped. bally-rena-like to the out house. As I made my way threw the long grass and nettles,following the well worn path that many Ryan's had trod when in the throes of heftedness, I saw my sun, my boy child wee BOn Jovi gleeking round the turf stack. What was the fruit of my lions up too? know good I wood say.
I wood deel with my off spring later, my degestive system was warning me that a load was emminent, thyme was of the essance. I entered the small wooden structure,AH, the feeling of piece, the feeling of -haven come home, this was the plaice where all the grate Ryan's had done their thinking, generations of Ryan's had sat, head cupped in hands, thinking how they could get more income support or do the double without getting caught. My own deer mammy had contrived a cunning plan in here, two get family allowance for fore wains, she diden't even have.
It was in the early 60's and when the DHSS scent out a letter, asking the names of the fore sprogs, quick as a flash, my mammy rote down, John, Paul, Ringo and George.
Deer mammy and daddy used the extra money two buy me a dummy and get blind drunk on red biddy whine.
As I lowered myself onto the well worn seat, with my imperial purple drawers round my plump ankles I muttered, "Gemuitlich" HOw comfortable,how cosy, how homely, or as Hair Hitler mite have said, Gemutlichkeit. I sat there, with my round, plump, full-moon, maidely face cupped in my slender, girlish hands, I was thinking of the ancient Geeks.
Ah, Grease,, the home of democracy, the home of headucation and learning.
I closed my eyes and pictured myself, strolling up two the panty-thon, with a white sheet threw round me, my wax and stylus in wan hand and a big kebab in the other.
The Geeks wood be hunkered round the temple, getting stuck into principles, auld arc-ah-medes, wood be telling every one about his screw and Sock-rah-tees wood be doing wild hard sums, that wood involve a lot of carring the wan and the use of the decrepid point.
"Ah, Rosieus" a Geek wood say "Grate oracle of Grease, the number oneus vestal virgin, what say the Gods today?" I wood give a tinkling, girlish laugh and reply.
"If any of youse has any drawers on the line, get them in now, for its going two pour all day".
Ah, I was born two late, "TWO late" I muttered, as I reached round behind me for the pages of Ireland's Own that were hanging from a nail.
"Gott In Himmel" I ejaculated, as my groaping hand found the nail devoid of bum fodder.
Where had it gone? I put a knew lot out only yesterday, where did it go? and here was me, sitting in an out house, without the necessary means of bringing my le-toilet too a satisfactory and Hi-genic konclussion. What was I to do? my predictament could only be described as-some hanlin'.
It was then I herd a small "Ah-hem" outside, it was my boy child, wee Bon Jovi.
"BON JOVI" I roared "KAN YOU HEER ME?"
"Loud and klear" said the wee gulpin, with a snigger in his voice "Are you all rite mammy? wool you soon be coming out?"
"BON JOVI" I roared, from the konfines of the crapper "I need paper, go into the house and bring me out some paper".
Silence, just the loud buzzing of blew-bottles round my plump, maidenly rear.
"BON JOVI" I yelled. "I neeed some paper, your auld mammy needs some paper, go into the house and get some like a bon cabellero".
Bon Jovi give an auld sinister laugh and said "We all need something, its a we all need something world. Commercialism running riot, you need-paper and I need a bicycle, I wonder if there is anyway, we could come to some-some meeting of minds, that wood result in paper for you and a bicycle for me?"
"You humpy wee gulpin" I roared, "that's blackmail and you no what they saw about blackmail, they saw it is a dirty word"
"They say the same about a dirty bum" laughed Bon Jovi.
"Now, if you wool just sign this legal contract which I have drawn up, you wool get your paper and I wool get my bicycle". "You wee get" I roared "You took the paper out of the shi out house".
"Did I? said Bon Jovi "Oh what a bad boy I am, I wonder who I learned that from? If you don't want to sign this legal and binding contract, I'm off two the bog too count tadpoles".
I had to sign, there was nothing else for it, the wee brute had me over a barrell.
As I adjusted my bloomers, at a 45% angle, I couldn't wait two get out at the wee brute.
I brust out of the out house like a Pampas bull but the wee brute had disappeared.
"BON JOVI" I roared "WHERE ARE YOU< YOU HUMPY WEE GET?"
Far off in the bog I heard a mocking voice call, "Cock-a-doodle-do. Cock-a doodle-do"
I must get down on my knees too-night and prey two saint Dora that the monetary wee brute falls off his bike and cuts the big ugly face of himself.
WAINS--the itching powder in the gusset of life.

Now go to www.greatshowlastweekkid.blogspot.com and see what's there. JP.