Showing posts with label Colin Hilton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Colin Hilton. Show all posts

Thursday, 21 August 2008

More helpings of Custard as Ironing Board for England leaves Chuckle Brothers on Death Row. Plus Mathew Chas & Dave and spectacular closing semolina

By Jove, I’m back missus. It’s been a busy week for me. Half the house was accidentally demolished after Mrs Chucklebutty dug up a 2nd World War bomb in the back garden and kept battering it with a shovel to see if it was live.

Yes we had a bit of a fall out over that, just because I left her in a tree for four days, but all is now back to normal. Peace in our time and pieces of the garden throughout the neighbourhood. She was okay when it went off having taken the precaution of wearing earplugs.

Anyway ladies and gentlemen, enough about the home front, which is all that’s left until we rebuild the back, down to the main business.

All of you Custard-Vultures will no doubt be wondering what’s left for 2008 as I turn again to the examine some of the remaining tattyfilarious programme of events.

Of course there will also be the spectacular closing ceremony, to make up for the piss-poor opening one with Bingo Starr and the grand parade of strangers and extras from Brookside.

Speaking of the closing ceremony, it looks like the result of the investigation into the behaviour of our current political leaders by the Ironing Board for England, has been put on hold with them deciding not to announce the guilt (or otherwise) of Messrs Bradlow and Mint until we have ended the year of custard.
They drank all the Peroni (click on links)


It seems they wish to spare the city any embarrassment of having our Leader and future Lord Muck bundled out of the town hall under a blanket, at least until Cilla has given her Panto thigh one last slap. Give Pete Price one as well Chuck. ( She calls me Chuck, you know, the cheeky mare)

Step inside Cilla
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHVLwHJNC-0

Surely this uncertainty leaves us with a great cloud - another one - hanging over the city for the rest of the year? If they are innocent, why haven’t they spared us the worry?

But if the Chuckle brothers are guilty of bullying and conspiring against Mr Harbottle and leaking details of his ticky dodger to the press (the Ironing Board doesn’t like the press you know, by Jove) then by not going public, we are potentialy left with people running the city who may now officially be regarded as unfit for office. This risks the end of Capital of Custard year being dominated by front page spreads about the antics of these two, rather than Pete Price’s Ugly sister frock. Although I am sure we’ll be able to read about it in his column for many months after.

What’s even more worrying, is with our “world in one city” slogan, just imagine the damage if a guilty verdict is linked to the colour of Mr Harbottle’s skin!

I have often thought why this brilliantly successful and charismatic young man should have been cruelly held up to ridicule by everyone who has ever come into contact with him or any of his work and why he has been treated so shabbily by Officers and Members with only a £230,0000 pay off.

And then the words of the Civil Blights leader,
The Reverend Doctor Paisley ring in my ear.


“ Is it because I is orange?” I hope I am wrong. But why else would they all take the pith?

A guilty verdict could of course have serious implications for the General Postmaster who has been trying to cover up his chronic amnesia after forgetting to send in Harbottle’s complaint.

(Harbottle’s complaint is now officially recognised as an illness. See recent article in The Lancet by Dr Juan Peroni)

I also understand that Executive Board meetings are now called Late Night with Letterman.

But if they've been found guilty, Wally and Mint should go now, then in the remaining months, deputy leader Flo Coupdegras, could work to recapture the spirit of 08, which is currently akin to a bottle of turps in most parts of the city.


On 31st of December, at the closing ceremony, she could regale us on the steps of St George’s Hall with her Dance of the Seventy Million Veils. Recreating the council X-factor winning routine with her and Dr Rotweiller as Ginger Rogers and Freddy Kruger. Nightmare on Dale Street

The Doc dumps Flo for a blonde http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QccO0pvSqgU

What a spectacular that would be, lit by the glow of the stunning 3 inch Catherine wheel nailed to a stick and with the moonlight catching the ceremonial milk bottle to launch the Legacy Rocket as it soars over 12 feet into the night sky with a mighty phhzsst proclaiming,


“ is that it then?”

But let’s try and forget about them for now and concentrate on the great events still to come. Next weekend of course is a second chance to see last years Mirthew Street Festival, when fans will be coming from as far as Chorley and Wrexham (the only train service running) to celebrate musical Merseyside and of course central to the festival is The Fab Four, that’s right, Herman’s Hermits. Visitors will arrive at Peter Noone International Airport “Above us only Mrs Browns lovely daughter” The dirty hermit.

Mrs Brown's http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lv8k0VI9tBc
Something good http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evpMKx5nrfY

Arrangements have been made to ensure visitors are immediately fleeced by cab drivers, driven to Runcorn Bridge to arrive in the city centre via the Kingsway Tunnel 5 hours later.

Why hasn’t anybody ever thought of having a tram connection like other cities? That Marie Celeste South Parkway Station that cost millions is miles away from the airport, why not just stay on the bus to Lime Street? It’s the transport equivalent of the pub with no beer - the station with no passengers, just tumbleweeds and a ticket clerk who has gone mad through isolation, he thought life would improve after 15 years in the Lighthouse, the poor man. Built to handle the tens of thousands flocking through from the airport, no expense has been spared apart from on platform seating and any shelter to protect you from gale force wind and driving rain.

The sign says:
Welcome to Liverpool.
What did you come to Parkway for soft lad?
You’d have been better going into town.
You can’t even get a cuppa tea here.
Yer norra Cockney or a woolly are ya?
Who you looking at, knob head?

Actually I think everything after the first line, was added by Jimmy McGovern, in felt tip. When he gets the muse, he has to write it down you know.

But anyway missus, this year the festival should be amazing with the headline act bound to bring in the huge crowds being none other than, scouse cockney band Chas & Dave. Yes Mr Cole and Dr Rottwieller will open the event with their hit song “Rob-it, Rob-it”.

They will also be attending an opening banquet with the Lord Mayor, dining on Jellied Cuban eels a la diddy, stunned salthouse fish, fresh from our very own docks and all sorts of seafood to reflect our maritime history. In fact the banquet is being held at one of the fishiest establishments in town, The 08 Plaice. Free parking will be available for guests of honour.

Fresh Fish Blues http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AATtz__l9S8

LDL Test http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmzodvWDwSM

There is more ladies and gentlemen, no sooner does the Meryl Streep festival conclude than we have perhaps the most eagerly awaited event of the year commence. La Vending Machine! So keep some 10 pence pieces handy.

Everybody is wondering what’s in store for the city as the people who brought the great Elephant to the streets of London, or Boris Johnson as he is known, bring a spectacular creature to Liverpool for 2008. They are calling it La Princess! I do hope it’s not going to be a 90ft Princess Anne on horseback jumping over the Churchill flyover and blooding the children as she slaughters any pensioners wearing a fox fur.

Or a gin sodden Princess Margaret marauding through the city streets chasing Roddy Llewellyn with a corkscrew. It wont be the other one, despite the Liverpool connection and the affair with Doddy, I can’t remember her name - off Panorama - claimed Prince Charles secretly married a camel and Prince Phillip once tried to smother the Queen mother with a pillow after she drank his Old Spice.

But anyway, the French designers who have created La Machine first visited Liverpool looking
for inspiration as to what kind of creature they could build. I understand they were shocked to see and hear about such a web of deceit, so with that impression, who knows what they may come up with.


Of course machines like this have their origin in Victorian times with the popular but smaller scale automatons that used to go on display. They would both shock and excite huge crowds of people at major events. Perhaps the most shocking example of the period was The Great Exhibition of Prince Alberts, when they all dropped their trousers in front of Queen Victoria at the Trooping of the colour. That was where they got the idea for the 21-gun salute.

Apart from that and the closing ceremony, I suppose the other main event is one I should keep quiet about since I misguided readers about it some time back. I mistakenly thought it was the HGV awards. However, since then I have received tens of thousands of letters from angry welsh folk. It is of course the HTV awards, a celebration of Harlech Televisions finest achievements.


And where better to celebrate that than Liverpool. Probably Sir Diddy put in a word for us after he bought himself a place there with our council tax or was that Manchester. Oh, there's a thouht, we don’t want the Granada Awards; they might send Ray Gosling to investigate us. Mind you isn’t Bet Lynch still our cultural ambassador from those early heady days?

I do hope Les Dennis doesn’t start a fight with Max Boyce during the awards. It was bad enough when Cheggars chinned Harry Seacombe on a live edition of Highway. Still, Cheggers is off the juice now and remains one of my heroes, a man who is 100% proof - well not these days, he’s still off it - but he remains proof that if you cut Liverpool people in half, they would have plumtiousness written right through them.

Bless you young Keith. We should get him back here to sort out the mysterious One Swap Shop for Kensington. Maybe it was swapped for the LDL £15 million nobody can account for.
The HTV awards will celebrate an era of magnificent entertainment output. Remember they gave us Wycliffe, with Jack Sheppard, Three Little Words with Ray Allen and Barbie and Definition with Don Moss. Their Jewel in the Crown, of course was the inspired game show “Mr & Mrs”.


Ahh you see, a lot of people only remember the Derek Batey version on Border TV, but the HTV one had the great and bald Alan Taylor, who wore a monocle and went on to do Paint Along with Nancy Komisnky. She married Reagan of course and ran the USA while he talked to the hat-stand all day.

They’ll all be there on the big night, well not that swine Batey, who ousted Alan’s HTV version. But anyway, as Batey and Alan used to say at the end of each episode,

“be nice to each other”

If only our local politicians and indeed the world could adopt that wise and simple philosophy.

You know I may run off some t-shirts with that on. What’s Harbottle’s number?
They’d all want one especially if it had Alan and Batey on it. Subliminal social control as well. I’ll speak to Sir Bernard Hogan-Heroes about this.

Moving on, here’s a special message now to all you ladies. Oven Chips for the next couple of weeks missus, leave the chip pan in the cupboard, we don’t want any fires because Grotty cash is hosting the World Fire-fighter games, so you’ll have to make do with the Coast Guard in an emergency and swim out to sea. Yes it’s the Fire-fighter games at the Arena. We won the tender ha, ha by Jove!

This promises to be an event to rival the Beejam Olympics. They were going to have an Olympic style flaming torch ceremony but they just couldn’t help themselves and kept putting it out.

Nevertheless the main opening ceremony promises to be an amazing spectacle.

As the parade of fire-fighters march into the Arena, nine hundred and ninety nine (999 see they have thought it all through) specially invited youngsters will greet them with the now traditional hail of bricks and abuse as they kick off with the first event, “puttin’ar bommie out”. There will be music too from Nee-naw Simone backed by Sirenz, the stars of last years’ Matthew Street judge nobbling festival held on Fathers day.

Sad to say there is the usual controversy though to spoil the games. Apparently the pretty little girl in the Everton scarf singing “Smoke gets in your lies” was just lip syncing to little Wally Bradlow who actually sang it, but his head was thought to be too big and too crooked to represent the right image for Grotty Cash. Quite right. It looks like a peanut shell! It is a shame though; after all he scored top marks in the dope testing.



Just to note, there will be Green Goddesses on stand-by to finish the games, should there be any enquiries or dispute over the tiddlywinks results.
Beijing Official Olympic Song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pY5zDQWd5bE


So missus, Grotty Cash is going to be the place to be over the coming months, particularly if you work for the Standards Board or the National Audit Commission. (Hopefully)

The message and advice then to Wally Bradlow and Future Lord Muck, Dicky Mint, remains the same.


It is the motto of the fire fighters themselves.

GET OUT and STAY OUT!

Be Nice To Each Other


Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty Bye!




Wednesday, 30 April 2008

ELECTION SPECIAL: Grotty Cash 08 - The City Decides....


By Joe, missus! I mean by Jove!

Election fever is upon us, or was it some dodgy King Prawns I had at the Cuban Eel Bar?

Yes May Day, May Day! We are lost at sea surrounded by Jellyfish and Sharks. Send help! Launch the floating voters! Throw the ballast boxes overboard.

All over Grotty Cash, ladies are ironing their pyjamas to get ready to go out and vote in one of the most nail polishing races ever seen in the city.

Who will be in control on May the 2nd ?

Of course the Glib Dums have been out of control for about seven years. After they pressed the ejector seat on Sir Diddy, and by Jove it was a powerful one to lift all those bags of cash as well, the city has been left in the hands of the hapless Fireman, Yes, by Jove, Wally Bradlow, ably supported by Hilton J. Stilton, with his famous catchphrase, “The Muck Stops Here”

Now some people, Mrs Chucklebutty, actually, are likening the Election to the famous Kennedy vs Nixon Presidential battle, a young, handsome, dynamic and charismatic leader winning over the female voters with his rugged good looks and distinguished service record and then of course there is Bradlow.

I really think Mrs Chucklebutty should have gone to Spec savers. Yes Wally, “would you buy a used Lambanana from this man” Bradlow. Now Red Eye Joe may look a bit like Alfred Hitchcock, but he presents well and at least he has one leadership quality, he can actually put a sentence together in English. You may not agree with it, but it is a sentence and when you want somebody to represent the City at a time of International focus you don’t really want Frank Spencer making the speeches.

Some Pams do ‘ave em. “ leave my little soldier alone!”

“Oohh we’ve ‘ad a bit of trouble, somebody did a whoopsy on Mathew Street.”

To borrow something from Winston Churchill, “up drew an empty cab and out stepped Bradley.” And of course we have all seen the recent defections and de-selections.

Is it four or five who fell foul of the fireman following the ferocious fall-outs? I’m fairly certain it’s at least four so far following all the failures and frequent fights. Who went first? I think Firth was the fourth or was Firth fifth? I think Fraenkel fell out of favour first and they went into free fall following Forde being fitted up in the farcical fixed report into the festival fiasco?……..I beg your pardon Mrs Chucklebutty has me on the F-plan diet and I have started to binge.

By the way, have you heard that the great Cultural spectacular will still go ahead with the company that created the “Consultants White Elephant” bringing a similar spectacular event to Grotty Cash? Now the exact details are a secret but being an advisor to the Custard Company, I can let you know what was on the shortlist for

“La Machine” as they are calling it. The first idea is a 30ft Boot kicking pensioners out of a day care centre but it was thought to be insensitive to the desires of people who, as Bradlow has pointed out, wish to remain trapped seven days a week in their home with a stranger throwing shopping at them a couple of times a week for company. Another idea was a 90ft Headless Chicken riding on a burning Fire Engine.

But I think they will go for the giant Gonewest Bank Cash Machine with the whimsical pin number 2008 spewing over £22 million down a 20ft drain with giant grinning marionettes of Archer, Sir Diddy, Harbottle and co. marching along side filling big sacks. Anyway I mustn’t spoil it, I’ll leave all that to the Custard Company.

So back to the Election! As those of you who read the local newspaper and I use the term as loosely as a seagulls bowels…ooh it can be rough on your nobby styles that paper but Mrs Chucklebutty gets it for the articles about Colleen whatshername, you know, Mickey Rooney’s young lady, that and because it is very good for soaking up the cats accidents, yes the Liverpool Hecko; here no evil, see no evil, print no evil, unless it’s about crime, drugs or mucky medics. The hecko has been running a series of articles about the political issues in Grotty Cash in the election run-up and getting the views of the main party leaders, subtitled “what the Hecko wants.”

The Editor, Mr Gordon Macaroni, the old news hound that he is, has produced a hard hitting list of demands to take Grotty Cash into the 25th century, To Infinity and Beyond, they say in true Buzz Lightbulb style. They have put these demands to the main political leaders to get their response. Here are some controversial examples.

What the Hecko wants!

Trees of green, red roses too friends shaking hands saying how do you do.

WB: “We have had to cut down all the trees in Sefton Park, as they were not in the plans for the original Norman Invasion or even mentioned in the Gloomsday Book, which as you know was signed by the glib dums at 12.15 just after lunch on behalf of the people with the King Johns Ambulance and I can assure you that right now, all our hands are shaking. Just look at where we were 10 years ago..sorry where was I?

JA: “Good Eeeeeeevening ”

What the Hecko wants!

A city that gets its bins emptied and yet cares about the environment (have you no mercy Machray…go easy on them they are only human).

WB: “We have recently dumped a load of blue bicycling bins everywhere in the run up to the local collections which will be emptied if it is a marginal seat or set on fire in which case I will personally put them out when I have more free time. Can I say also Roger just look at where we were 10 years ago…sorry where was ?”

JA: “ Weekly bin collections are vital and we will have to got through every one of them to try and find the £64 million that the Lib Bins have thrown away”

What the Hecko wants!

A clean city with safe open spaces. A city that sets and hits stretching tourism and retail targets and engenders civic pride!

WB: “ Mothers pride? Yes that is the bread and butter of Liverpool One and we will communicate a joint strategy with Hovis construction. But just look at where I was 10 minutes ago….where was I? It wasn’t Las Vegas, you promised not to mention that."

JA: “Our open spaces are the in the financial records of where all the money has gone”

What the Hecko wants!

An efficient sleaze free Liverpool crucially balancing the books

WB: “I’m Jolly Roger….er, I mean I’m sorry Roger but there is no sleaze in Liverpool and I am sure that if there was any evidence or suspicion of it, I would have read about it in the Hecko. We are Liverpool and the glib dums put the LIVE into Liverpool and the POO and for the last 10 years we have been taking the P*** as well, ahh that’s where I was. As for balancing the books, that’s too easy you should see me and Mr Storeyteller balancing bottles of Peroni on our heads.”

JA: "I have to agree with Wally about sleaze, it would be hard to find a shred of evidence, they have shredded it all.”

What the Hecko wants!

(In the voice of John Le Mesurier) A rather lovely bench for Liverpool

WB: “Oh f*** off Roger are you trying to suggest we will loose our seats? Don’t forget my passion comes across as being aggressive sometimes and if I thump you it is only because I care, don’t I mum?”

PB: “Ohh did the nasty man say bad things to my little boo boo? ”

JA: “If there are any spare seats going in the city can we have them? ”

But what of the other parties you all ask? The Hecko spoke to the other main leaders

Hank Kingsley: The Wuthering Liberals

“ Hey noooow! Does that say applesauce? No it’s applause. The Liberal Party in Liverpool is basically me in a striped top or a rugby shirt but with more hair than Anderson. Wally has a full head of hair but it grows from inside his skull, coming out like a coconut so don’t judge us by hair alone. Wally and Stormy have been referred to the Standards boards for their behaviour, however I will pursue them under the Trades Descriptions Act for the use of the word Liberal.”

Sarah Trimmings: Green Party

“The Green vote was started on Opportunity Knocks with a clapometer measuring the carbon applause print of the studio audience. Our famous candidates have included Mary Hopkin, Little and large, Pam Ayres, Les Dawson and Tony Holland the Muscular meat pie man. While others may have jumped on the recycling issue, I always jump on it to flatten more down into the bin. Remember with the Hughie Green party it’s your vote that counts. We will double your money not take it away. And what we say in our manifesto, we mean it most sincerely folks, we really do.

Ray Sistwat: Brutish National Farty

“Grottische Cache Uber Alles!”

Sidney Pringle: Conservative

“ Who me? Ohh ‘ellooo. Oh no, don’t go to the polls, get a British plumber. When is the election? Who is standing for the Tories? Who? Ohhh, stop messin’ about.”

Foghorn Leggarty: A Mayor for Grotty Cash Party

“Now listen here, why can’t we be like London, I say London and follow the example of Dr Livingstone, with an elected, I say elected Mayor. He introduced an Indigestion Charge to cut down on greenhouse gasses and with all the hot air and noxious fumes coming outa the Town hall hen house we need to act fast. We need to have an accountable leader or maybe just an accountant would do. I will also ban the Bernard Matthews Street Festival. Why I lost some good friends last time…finger licken good though MMMMhmmmm!”

Herbert Howe: Side Party

“Its all cut and dried”
_________________________________________

Well ladies and gentlemen, the city is up for grabs. All of the cash has already been grabbed but it is still a two horse race to take over the one star state. And what a state we are in. The McCartney concert with the supposed international line-up is now also a one star concert, so at least there is some consistency.

After witnessing Wally Bradlow's skills and experience over the last two years can you allow him to be voted out and risk him turning up if your house goes on fire?

Many feel that Liverpool desperately needs change. About £60 million in copper would do.

Is Anderson your man? Can he turn off the laughter track and replace it with one where people are laughing with us not at us. Can he stomach the festering cans of worms buried under the Municipal Chuckle Chamber, will he really go in there with a tin opener? Will he even get the chance?

I will say one last thing, as depending upon the results, I hope to retire in May.

I say this as a final gesture of decency and a warning to Wally Bradlow and his Glib Dum chums. If the next time we see you, all your faces are blackened, your hair is standing on end and your suits all smouldering, well I saw MeCogloose running wires from the mains fuse box in the town hall. You said something to her about the election and you needing at least 20,000 votes.

Tatty Fry Everybody Tatty Fry



Love from Professor Chucklebutty

Sunday, 10 February 2008

DIDDY THE KID GIVES RED-EYED JOE SOME ADVICE ABOUT KLONDIKE PHIL, DOC MCILHOLIDAY AND UNDERTAKER STILTON

(In a departure from my usual whimsy and tattyfilariousness, due to recent events, we appear to have reached a critical point following the inevitable national humiliation brought upon us by the assembled collective of the silly consul, whereby total national discomknockeration has now undone all of my previous hard work in rebuilding the reputation of this great cashcow.....er city! As a result, I fear no jocular comment from me, in addition to those surrounding the plight of “Sheriff” Wally Bradlow and Muck Storey OBE (Oh Bollocks, End-game) could stretch the chuckle muscle any further without serious risk of clack injury. I therefore offer some sober analysis and advice in the popular and current idiom)

By Jehosophat Ma’am, it’s me, Diddy The Kid!

I been readin’ the Dirty Washingtown Post, and that there Stinky Ink Bartlett, says there’s over 60 million dollars a missin’ from the community chest, and by all accounts (or those they’ll let anyone see) the Sheriff was last seen a headin’ for the Mexican border.

Looks like Doc McIllholiday needs to git some law ‘n order back into Grotty Cash Gulch.

Seems things was goin’ just fine ‘n dandy till them critters from the Audy Murphy Commission came in, and like the critters they are, they started a crittercisin’.

Says you aint nothing but a one horse town! That’s what I call fightin’ talk! Who cares about havin’ only one horse, when you got a Cabinet full a mules!

Now I know that the town Undertaker, the richest stiff fixer in the West, Hilton J Stilton, says “Hows a come if we got three horses for shootin’ and three horses for all the new saloons, we end up with just one fer the town? Huh, huh, huh? It jus’ don’t seem fair!” Well listen up and I’ll tell ya boy! Cos Bowleg Bradley and that crazy School Teacher aint even got the guts to ask a jackrabbit where it hid all the carrots.

Your Bank Manager, Klondike Phil, thinks you gotta keep the bank empty so it don’t get robbed and then when the Sheriff tries to look in the vault, Klondike jus’ kicks dirt in his face an says “There, ya see what ya done we aint got nothing cos a you!!”

Then the Sheriff runs over to the school house a blubberin’ and a wimperin’, and the best he and the School Teacher can do is start a scheming and conniving like two old spinsters hankerin’ for attention. Yep, spinsters aint got no balls either!

And now you all got yerselves into a whole heap a shinola for actin’ like a riverboat load of Merseysippi gamblers. Just fillin’ your saddlebags fast and as often as you can!

Now, Mr Undertaker, you listenin’, Stilton? If you aint one of the Jackrabbits, you sure been sittin with ‘em long enough to know huntin’ season shoulda started a long time ago!

So let me warn ya pardner, you better trim any sign of a fluffy tale an pull your hat down over those ears, cos right now you’re looking like Rabbit Stew from where I’m sittin’ (In a lovely penthouse apartment in Manchester actually missus, you bought it for me too! Ha ha, By Jove! Right, back into character….)

You boys been on a big fat winnin’ streak so long you got gold fever!! Didn’t you learn anything from me? You gotta know when it’s time to fill your boots and move on! You got your stash safe, you don’t milk a cow til it’s dry or it gits sore. And when that happens, you need an udder plan (Boom boom! By Jove!)

You boys jus didn’t know when t’ quit did ya? You been spending money like there’s no tomorrow, mainly on yourselves, gamblin' on not getting found out!

One more spin of the wheel, one more spin, hit me, hit me!

Yup! well it looks like this could be high noon.

So this is my advice and it's hard fer me to give it cos this is some of my old posse I’m talkin’ about!

First you got a get rid of the Twelve Fingered Bank Manager, Klondike Phil. Why that varmint can’t even count!

His idea of looking after your money is to hand it all out to any old Pink medicine man that asks for it and pay off all the no good the hustlers who ride into town, (like…....me, Yeeeeeehaaaaaaaaa! By Jove yes!)

He allowed a private railroad to be built runnin’ from the Town Hall to Vulture Place carrying all your money to Doc McIllholiday and his gang, even though everybody knows that the Doc’s gang are a bunch of graspin shower singin’ tricksters hoodwinkin’ every nickel outa ya!

And then when you ask Klondike where it’s all gone, he starts a preachin’ and actin like he aint never seen a dime of it, and has the gall to remind you that he can step in and take over the town to put it right! (That’s my boy!)

Well, let me tell you straight, there’s a mighty high chance that the Sheriff is gonna get ambushed by his own deputies. And if I were you Sheriff, I would stay away from the Saloon Bar run by that flirty dancin’ girl Chin-chiller Flo, cos believe me the Klu Cas Klan aint to be messed with.

And if we’re talkin’ about bein’ hungry for power, then Fat Belly Dick, the Marbrow Man has got one mighty appetite. You heard the sayin’ "so hungry I could eat a horse?" Well if Fat Belly Dick rides in you’ll be a no horse town!

And don’t forget Calamity Kemp, the man who put the Cowboy into Boote! He’s the guy that let the Boote Ranch Estate turn into a Ghost Town, you gotta make sure that the hauntin’ don’t never stop! Pretty sure the folks he left behind have reserved a special plot for him, if he ever gets the brass neck to show up again.

Now what about the guy who already has the Stetson and ranch coat, Clein? Hmmm I kinda like the name, German for Diddy, ya know? But the guy is another maverick like Calamity Kemp, liable to shoot before he knows what he’s aimin’ at.

An you can forget Tumbleweed or Antrobush whatever his name is, I never liked him, why that no good rattlesnake once said that I tried to blackmail and threaten the school teacher! Me? As gentle a heart and a soul as you could hope ta meet. No….. “A SOUL” I said!

Well, whatever those losers do to try and avoid a lynching, come springtime for Stilton, there may be, just maybe, another gang ready to ride in and take over.

Red Eye Joe and his gang are on the outskirts of town.

Now if Red Eye aint gonna be turned into Cotton Eye, by the Evil Corral, then he is gonna need to come in shootin from the hip and run the crooks and deadwood outa town. Cos if he don’t, he is gonna be another patsy like the sheriff.

If you wanna take this town and keep it, you gotta see off my old boys once and for all and that aint gonna be easy! Cos remember, I trained them and they still come to daddy diddy for advice!

Are you a match for Doc? Cos if you aint and you don’t sort out his gang, you may as well get measured for your casket right now. (See if the Undertaker has his tape out behind your back)

First they is gonna wine and dine ya, offer to polish your shoes, tell ya how pleased they are to have a new sheriff, let you into a few little secrets til you is hooked and so reliant on them you’ll need them to tell ya what day it is and which end to wipe! Yup! That’s my boys!

So Joe, we’ll know soon I guess, if you are up to a showdown or if we will be able to make you lie down and just tickle your belly like an old hound dog.

It’ll be up to you and your gang, you probably won’t be able to do it alone, and may need to call in the federal marshals and the Pinkerton Agency to open up everything, and I mean everything if you want to win back the trust of the towns folk.

For a while, that’s gonna hurt, real bad and there may be a lotta shootin and blood runnin’ down the steps of city hall. But as a great man said recently, (Mr George W. Thrush): “ Fool me once shame on you, fool me ya fool, ya fooled me again and then…...don’t laugh at me cos I’m a....….Mr Grimsdale!!!!)

In other words if you leave a mongoose to look after the hen house, don’t be surprised if you find no eggs for breakfast, your ass gets plucked and you end up covered in chicken shit!

Tatty Bye Pardners, tatty bye!

By Jove, I must remember to take me spurs off in the bath!