Piano Jingle, Open titles; 'Kitty' Kitty enters from stage left, she carries a handbag and straightens her cardigan as she sits down and makes herself comfortable. She still has one roller left in her hair, that the make-up department forgot to take out. She pulls out a handkerchief from her sleeve and blows her nose. Well ...... it's any wonder I made it. The car they were supposed to have sent to collect me never turned up, so I had to get the bus in. And that's not as easy as it sounds when you're carrying two pedal bins, a Mason Cash bowl and a pelmet. Anyway, I got here with a few minutes to spare. Cindy the make-up artist, I say make-up artist, she must have completed her training at Billy Smarts circus. I mean, she couldn't apply a Dairylea triangle onto a rice cake! She pushed me into a chair and started slapping on my foundation, when I had to ask her to step aside. I suppose it's being married to an Italian chef, but there was enough garlic in her breath to give a Frenchman asthma. It's quite apt that I'm starting to talk about Europeans actually, because that's why I'm here. I'm doing a piece on the EU, and apparently to coax you over to the remain side. 'Remainiacs' I think they're calling them. Well, we'll see about that won't we? I've got my own conclusions drawn, opinions formed, and collars starched! I got a phone call last week from Morag. She's still producing. I'm not sure what exactly but none of it is decent television programming. She said, 'Can you make a late evening slot after the News at Ten? The journalist who is doing an investigation into fabric dye inhalation in a Sri Lankan T- shirt factory has gone a funny tinge of tangerine and took a turn for the worse. Can you do a piece on whether the EU is a good thing or bad thing for us?' Then she asked me, 'Kitty, do you have a lust for new experiences?', I said 'No I don't! I had enough of that when I tottered into a Portuguese Young Persons Communist Club thinking it was a Post Office. Well it was alright, after a couple of hours of squat dancing, I did descale their kettle and they did deliver my parcel, but I still get a twitch when I hear Lieutenant's Troika at Christmas. So, they flew me out to Belgium for two nights. I shan't be doing that again. I'm not a frequent flyer but I thought my trip was going to be in good stead after the preparations I made. I jammed my umbrella into the back of the seat in front of me to stop him reclining. I removed it just as we started our approach to land. It all reminded me of the time when we went to Yugoslavia and I sat behind a recliner. He had terrible dandruff. Every time we hit a spot of turbulence it was like an avalanche of snow pouring into my three bean salad starter. Well, we'd not long taken off and my ball of wool managed to get caught onto the flight attendants trolley. You know, the contraption they pull up and down constantly, dislocating the shoulders of all the aisle sitters with? So, I was knitting away, not realising I had wool going around the length and breadth of the aircraft which caused me to knit one, drop six! Then a baby starts screaming doesn't it? Thirty places I could think of to put the thing, but the seat behind me wasn't one of them. It finally gave up squawking and fell asleep over Luxembourg. That's bigger than it looks on the map. So Europe, well I won't beat about the mustard. Vote out. What as the EU ever done for us? They've ruined the Eurovision Song Contest, it's never been the same since Sandy Shaw. They've never taken to sherry. Well except the Spanish. For some reason they think it's a good idea to stick it in vinegar. They come over here with their flaky pastry breakfasts' and cabbage croquettes, not to mention changing the names of our cleaning products and confectionary. They've never accepted our three pin plug, and their hotels never put out enough shower caps in my opinion. Not that I'm a racist and hold anything against these nations. Oh no! My Grandfather was from the Isle of Man! So I'm from a very welcoming family. We don't want all these gates and borders flung open, not knowing who's coming or going. If I was in Parliament, and believe me you'd know if I was. I'm itching to give all that woodwork a good going over with Lemon Pledge. But, if I was in Parliament, I wouldn't bother with this referendum business. I'd write a stiff letter to that Jean-Claude Juncker fellow to tell him we are cancelling our membership and to ask for those annual charges to be refunded. From about 1973 onwards I'd say. And that Angela Merkel needs speaking to about her outfits. Honestly, she couldn't coordinate two teabags around a teapot. She makes Jeremy Corbyn look like Yves Saint Laurent! My advice to the EU is to break it up now. It's like a cocktail party that's gone wrong. Everybody's outstayed their welcome and not mingled properly, and they've all brought stuff to the buffet that nobody else likes. We can stay with it as a continent, just not in it, like a luke warm jacuzzi that's lost its bubble. Well I have much enjoyed coming here tonight to put my political influence upon you. I'm back here next week which I didn't agree to at first but they said they'd make it worth my while. They said they would set my hair and send me some vouchers I couldn't turn my nose up at. Very interesting topic next week; The right to die. Pulling the plug with dignity. (Starts to stand up and look over the camera) Now, Cindy, you're going to have to get the ice scraper out from your glove compartment. This make-up isn't coming off with just a warm wet towelette. I'd look for a pan scrub as well. There's some turps in my jute bag! Piano Jingle, End.
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