Shrimpsvoices

not seen much of the cat this season,hoping to see him on saturday chasing the magpie.its good to have a mascot and i think it adds to the entertainment.

Hoping to make an appearance on Saturday , should add to a terriffic atmosphere at Christie Park for what we hope will be our first three pointer against the big spenders of League 2.

Only comes out for the big games nowadays.

The cat thinks it's better than the rest of us, ideas above it's station if you ask me

I heard the cat actually plays local league cricket throughout the summer and so is unable to attend games until co-incidently the 3rd saturday in september.

Reliable sources have informed me this is in fact quite true!

I heard the cat got run over by a car??

I understand there were complications after it had the snip.

Christie's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw--
For he's the pussy criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime--Christie's just not there!

Christie, Christie, there's no one quite like Christie,
He's broken every human law, his belly breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of annoying keepers would make a referee stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime--Christie's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air--
But I tell you once and once again, unless it's a big game, Christie's not there!

Christie's a bright red cat, he's very big and strong;
You would know him if you saw him, for his arms are far too long.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly doomed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He signals the score with his big white paw - he calls Chester fans 'sheep....';
And half the time, under his costume he's really fast asleep.

Christie, Christie, there's no one like Christie,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in the York Hotel, see him Poulton Square--
But when a crime's discovered, then Christie's not there!

He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the dressing room is rifled,
Or when the tea-bar milk is missing, or another Pie's been stifled,
Or the dugout glass is broken, and the turnstile past repair--
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Christie's not there!

Christie, Christie, there's no one like Christie,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, or one or two to spare:
And whatever time the deed took place--CHRISTIE WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the fans whose jokes fill us with dread
(I might mention Marky 1, I might mention PUNKISDEAD)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who likes a lark
Just controls their operations: the foolin, feline king of Christie Park!

Christie's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw--
For he's the pussy criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime--Christie's just not there!

Christie, Christie, there's no one quite like Christie,
He's broken every human law, his belly breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of annoying keepers would make a referee stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime--Christie's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air--
But I tell you once and once again, unless it's a big game, Christie's not there!

Christie's a bright red cat, he's very big and strong;
You would know him if you saw him, for his arms are far too long.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly doomed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He signals the score with his big white paw - he calls Chester fans 'sheep....';
And half the time, under his costume he's really fast asleep.

Christie, Christie, there's no one like Christie,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in the York Hotel, see him Poulton Square--
But when a crime's discovered, then Christie's not there!

He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the dressing room is rifled,
Or when the tea-bar milk is missing, or another Pie's been stifled,
Or the dugout glass is broken, and the turnstile past repair--
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Christie's not there!

Christie, Christie, there's no one like Christie,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, or one or two to spare:
And whatever time the deed took place--CHRISTIE WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the fans whose jokes fill us with dread
(I might mention Marky 1, I might mention PUNKISDEAD)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who likes a lark
Just controls their operations: the foolin, feline king of Christie Park!

Quiet news day??

Nope - just waiting for some more pages to come through to be checked. Get out training lad.

.....now we know how the editor of a newspaper spends his time.....when not stalking a celebrity

Funnily enough we're just working on one celebrity story now for next week.

Plus another good one about a TV show coming to film in Morecambe.

Anyway, that's my late lunch-hour gone.

See you later

i remember having to recite that on the winter gardens stage when i was 9/10 on a tuesday morning
part of the morecambe festival held usually around april/may
wonderful poem