Monday, 12 February 2007


The Squire Of Daddies Cash said...
By Jove, I'm back.

Yes, the Big Digger missus!
Right into your pockets!
Here again, like the proverbial bad penny, ha, ha, no such thing as a bad penny, send them to me missus, by jove.
Never mind under the floor boards, my new house will be built on Williamson's Tunnels. Plenty of room there to store the grotty cash!
Now this thing is still going on about me being the Squire of Medi-cash, but todays sermon members of the Parrish of St Tony, is on a subject very close to my height...Children!
Yes my missionary work with the CSA.
Cash Supplied Abundantly!
Now at first I wasn't sure if I should take up a position as a missionary, so i consulted Doc the Marmaliser.
I said what would you think of a missionary position? He said go for it Diddy, but not in the shower, the water can go up your nose.
So I thought long and hard.... did I have the skills and the ability, the passion, the commitment..then I thought about the 900 quid a day.
So you see it was a personal calling for me.
£900 a day, that's more than the cost of a councillors computer..nearly.
But it's not the money missus it's other higher rewards...bigger heels for me higher than that.
I know what your thinking, it's as easy for a rich diddyman to enter the kingdom of health as it is for a cabal to pass through the eye of an evil.
Now, "Give me a child to the age of 7..." the Jesuits used to say, actually one of the silent orders said it first, but nobody heard them.
Give me a child to the age of 7 and I'll clear off and you'll never see a penny.
That was my brief to overhaul the CSA (Cash Still Accummulating) and track down these absent fathers.
Unfair to the diddy dads some may say?
Come off it, they're all loaded, staying at Buckingham Palace dressing up as batman? One of them owns a crane, I've seen him danngling off it dressed as Spiderman.
Why Superheroes missus? Why Batman, Superman, Spiderman?
If they want Justice, why not dress as Ombudsman?
If they stopped dressing as Milkman there might be a few less skint kids missus.
And it is heart think of all that missing money...
I did me research by jove, yes!
In this day and age, children barefoot on cobbled streets huddled in doorways in our own city!
A scandal... not even a pair of scandals!
If you don't believe me you can see the pictures for yourself in the Library.
"Liverpool" by Gon Days. Short for Gonville I think.
Published only last year. So my research is up to date. An outrage!
Believe me, ladies and gentlemen I was determined that these children should get the help they need.
Just imagine the difference it would make if these families had enough money to phone LDL for help.
By Jove,...they'd make a fortune! Another one!
Keep them on hold...if they're in a phone box at least they are out of the rain...some words of comfort while they are on hold..."all our advisers are busy looking for other jobs....your cash is important to us...we are currently in a queue at the bank."
So anyway half a million later when I found me quil, I wrote my report on the back of a spare vest.
I'd already sent some briefs earlier.
Sack half the staff, they are all rubbish, for the rest, purchase 200 pocket calculators (only £3500 each from one of my contacts in LDL, plus service charge and AA battery not supplied) and a phonebook.
Then instigate the classic sting operation to track down the Dads!
"Hello is that Mr Cockie-leekie? Your son Wee Hamish has won the Lottery and wants you to come home. Soon as he sets foot back in the house, turn him upside down by the ankles and shake! Please make cheque payable to Sir Diddy."
Now some people said my report was a load of rubbish and achieved nothing.
Nonsense I say, look at my bank balance now missus!
Actually before I go on, I wish to withdraw something I put in earlier...behave yourself, madam, not even with somebody else's tickling stick!
No, not hindsight for the missing dads either, I am referring to a comment about Doc the Marmaliser and misdoings in the shower.
Now this appalling Blog business has been very unfair, labelling him the dirty dog and the Rottweiller...sniffing around Golden receivers.
So I would like to make it clear right now that he was cleared of any wrong doings whatsoever by a stewards enquiry at Crufts.
Ahhh I wonder if he misses me. Those days sharing the council chamber pot, him lifting me on and off and then wiping my pc for me.
What a gap I must have left.
Is it possible that they could find somebody who could fill my shoes missus?
They did show me the top 3 choices - Ronnie Corbett, Jeanette Krankie and Jimmy Clitheroe...all too busy.
I did hear that Little Richard was interested, but he was too busy trying to find out just who
this Tracey Parrish was.
Well I can answer that...
It was none other than that media menace Judy Finnigan!
Yes, not the first time she's tried to expose the diddies to the public!
Well all I can say is that whoever was chosen as my successor, I hope he does a good job for the city.
He'll never have as many hits as me, I just hope he doesn't try and do cover versions.
Arthur Askey would be my choice, yes big hearted Arthur...perhaps he was on the bee list?
Is it Arthur?
Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, I think I have said enough.
If after reading my wise words and comments, you still think I was wrong in some of my actions as kind to my memory.
Remember, my work for the CSA was also in recognition of my own unhappy childhood.
Yes the Jesuits were right about the formative years. they can influence a man.
I was after all a war baby, born durng the blitz in the bed next to Stan Boardmans act.
Yes a war baby!
The midwife took one look and said whooooaar, what's that?
I was a diddy baby too, delivered by tweezers.
But at 3 months old I was kidnapped by Gerbils and held for ransom.
Nobody would pay the 37 shillings and sixpnce they demanded and i think that is why money became so important to me in later life.
The gerbils quickly grew to loathe me after I privatised their wheel but they were afraid to bring me back because owing to a misprint on a government telegram in 1939, Britain had been at war with the Gerbils for 7 years.
So they dumped me in a moses basket and floated me off down the Mersey...I still sleep in it to remind me.
By the time I was re-united with my diddy family, my charecter was formed.
So i can't help myself missus...actually I can and do ha ha by jove yes!
But that's the man that stands here before here...down here missus!
Well this is my last contribution to these glorious pages.
I'm off to pursue another new career as a writer.
I am going to team up with professor Tom Slemen, the man of Liverpool mysteries and blood curdling tales of long ago.
Yes, madam it'll send chills up your flannel nighty, especially when you are out going to the off licence in your dressing gown pretending to be a Pete Price listener.
Me and Professor Slemen have uncovered new evidence about an old Liverpool horror story,about which i have a particular insight.
That of an evil little goblin figure who used to terrorise the good people of Liverpool, making their souls and wallets feel cold and empty, a hideous sight last seen leaping from the roof of the town hall to the municipal building and then onto the roof of all of the banks along Castle Street, leaving large filthy deposits as people cried helplessly.
Yes, you know who I mean, none other than the notorius Liverpool legend, Cuban Heeled Jack !So Tatty bye everybody Tatty bye!
3:14 AM