Tuesday, 8 November 2011

A Culshie In New York.

Clougher calling! Clougher calling!
Deer Jelly,what exquisitive joy to heer your strong, barry-tone voice waft over the rolling prairies and deep ravines of Co Tyrone. I thank you from the bottom of my hart for standing in for Gerry Anderson. And my sun, Bon Jovi thanks you from his bottom too.
I am sure Jelly that you are compes-mentos of the fact that Gerry Anderson is running round Knew York, wearing a very short simmet and a wee pear of blew nickers. I wood be the last person on earth too say anything dee-ogg-raty about Gerry, but I can't help but feel he left it a bit late to start acting the Master McGraw. A man in the twilight years of his life should be dozing in front of the fire and sucking champ through a straw.
Your golfing handicap, Mr Coyle is also in Knew York. Walking about like a culshie with his mouth hanging open. Staring up at big, tall buildings like a boy who was never out of the house and shouting, "Hello there! How's it going?" to everyone he meets. What must the American's think of him Jelly? Walking about like Forest Gump with a green gansey on him and his name and address pinned to his chest.
I kan't sea any inward investment coming from this ill-fated, ill-timed, puke retching trip!
How is you Jelly? Us, me and Bon Jovi are as happy as Alasdair McDonnell, in a dimly lit room. A knew, thrusting, elequent leader who kan't read with the lights on-just what the SDLP was crying out for. Wait 'till HE hits America! Bon Jovi, arrayed in "Joe Bloggs" dungarees, sends his love. As do I, arrayed in hob-nailed boots, tartan, drindle skirt, puce blouse and a laurel wreath of germaniums in my hare. If the good Lord's willing and the creeks don't rise, I may send you another epistile before the weak end.
It just remains for me to sign off with a rousing , "Come On Yeh Boy Yeh and Keep Her Lit!!!!! Rosie Ryan xxx

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