Irritating Public Radio, Your Friends In The Air, present:

Crossing Wires: Encounters with a REAL psychic.

Starring: His Eminence, Cardinal Point

Yes, tonight, at the Rear Tremor Guild Hall and Bingo Club, on the grounds of the former estate of the Laird of the Dance Clan, we are pleased to present that saint of paranormal debunkers, His Eminence, Cardinal Point, the most exciting and realistically true psychic in the Isles.
The people he is to meet have not seen him in person until this moment in time, if not history. They are blindfolded and he is blindfolded. A polygraph is attached to His Eminence and the room is wired with various detectors, sensors and 20,000 volts from the mains.
There is a sheet of reinforced hand-poured glass between His Eminence and the subjects. He has not been allowed to ask them any questions. He is allowed only to make statements. They are not allowed to ask direct questions, but only to respond to his statements in the affirmative or the negative.
All statements were verified before this broadcast was allowed to be distributed. This required only a short delay of about 45 minutes.
A team of solicitors was hanging around the back of the hall taking notes, just in case anything actionable or interesting was said.

His Eminence, Cardinal Point, is a small, unassuming man with the voice of a Sergeant Major. He has penetrating myopic eyes with one blue-gray and the other bloodshot green. He is wearing an argyle suit made of virgin alpaca silk with a Notre Dame college tie and a Red Dwarf tie tack. His shoes are simple sandals over bright orange woolen socks with holes cut out to free his bunions. He wears a small cricket cap and clutches a chromed Malibu Barbie. He swears it helps him channel.

Announcer: (sotto voce) All right. Here we go!

Cardinal Point: (clearing throat) Ahhh.... third from the left, eight rows back....Ahhh... You're double parked and you left your lights on.

(gasp of surprise and scraping of chair, running feet)

Cardinal Point: Ahhh... let's see... two rows back, on the end at the right... ah...your walrus is pregnant and the police will be seeing you on the way out about a DNA test...

(hard object bouncing off glass with a 'tooonnngg' and running feet. Sound of shots in the distance)

Cardinal Point: Ahhh, hmmm... At the very back, also third from the left...Why do you supposed that your mother would want to contact you from the other side of death? She didn't want to speak to you when she was alive. You know she preferred sign language...Ahhh... I have just been informed that the seats have numbers... let me rearrange my thoughts... by the way, Mr. Announcer, you're rewearing yesterday's underwear...
(laughter, running feet)

Cardinal Point: And tie that left shoelace! Ahh... (clears throat)
Fifty-seven, yes, your dog is dying.

Twenty-three, I think that is a very good lottery number and you really do deserve that promotion, but I suggest that you remove the fox hunting photos from your office wall. Your new boss has a retired fox for a pet and two retired greyhounds.

Eighty-eight, give up, I'm not going to tell you. I don't even want to remember thinking about it.

Forty-two, no, I don't think that dress is too tight on you, and, yes, I think that sychronized nude swimming is a great way to meet guys. Particularly if they are on the team!

Seventy, there is a time and a place for everything. Take that pencil eraser out of your ear and stop thinking about your wife like that. There is nothing romantic you can do for her or anything you can buy her that will convince her to rebuild your brakes. On the other hand, your sister-in-law might be interested, in exchange for you retiling her bathroom.

Eight, no, I've never worn a kilt and I think the Bay City Rollers were very twee.

Fourteen, a pinch of terragon will do nicely. Your family has been kind to you, but I think you aught to know.
(gasp, followed by crying)

Cardinal Point: Okay, I'm getting tired of this, so I'll speed things up by just tossing out impressions and whoever owns them can figure it out:

Yes, no, brown is better than beige under those conditions; yes, sell the house; no, that girl is not for you; try a different eye shadow, look it up in the Mayhew phone book under 'Used Tires'; no, homeschooling is not for your child, but you might try it; yes, there is a name for it, and, no, I'm not going to tell you, ask your doctor;
no, I don't recommend that you buy a computer until you figure out how to program your VCR; no, you don't need any more shoes; yes, a Corgi would be fine, but not with your current carpetting; a thin coat of varnish before dinnertime should solve that problem; call Benny at the Brass Ball Pawnbrokers and tell him what you need; yes, there is a way, but you'll have to get a license first; no, no, no, not the green one, use the orange one and sparingly; your gray stocking is behind the couch and you left the green one in the station; it doesn't matter what grade you make on this test, if you have no intention of using the knowledge; yes, I've seen the Pope, and, no, he doesn't have bad breath; no, I'm not going to tell you what happens next season on Buffy, The Vampire Slayer; and, yes, you probably should wear that bra with that sweater, but I, personally, would loosen the straps, you'll see what I mean in years to come, when you try to reach over your head. Okay. That's it. No more. Good bye.
(sound of chair scooting, footsteps, tripping and falling, short spate of moaning and indistinct swearing)

This has been Carla Pre Ternada, at the Guild Hall
in East Tremor, with His Eminence, Cardinal Point, the foremost psychic and debunker in the Isles. Tune in next week, when he will visit the St. Francis of Cincinnati Home For Unwed Mothers and Retired Royal Engineers. For Irritating Public Radio, we wish you a fond good night

Cardinal Point: (shouting, from a distance) And tell that idiot at 221B North Cleat, in Ipswich, to turn his radio down, he's driving the neighbors nuts!