— That’s great news, Billy! If he only had a bit of a thing of a woman now …
— Don’t worry about that, Johnny. From what I hear, it won’t be long now. Someone from over by Kin Teer who was in England. A woman of substance, or so they say. The Postmistress’s daughter says that the Junior Master will get married any day now … That’s her. The one in Barry’s Bookies in the Fancy City … The priest says nothing about it now, neighbour. She took the pledge a little while ago … Don’t worry about it. You’re always going on about what you did. Some people saying you did it, and others saying that you’d have to burst …
— Explode or burst or whatever, Billy! That’s the truth as clear as the dew. I drank forty-two pints …
— Do you think that Antichrist will come soon, Billy? …
— Don’t worry about it, neighbour. I don’t think he will. I reckon that he won’t. To make a long story short, my considered opinion is that it is unlikely that he will …
— I think myself, Billy, that it won’t be long now …
— It’ll be great anyway, neighbour. Believe me, wait and see, you’ll know yourself …
— Do many people require spiritual assistance, Billy, or do they even say the Rosary?
— Didn’t I tell you often enough, Colm More’s daughter, didn’t I tell you often enough to leave heretical matters to me …
— Do you really think, Billy, that the prophecy is going to come true? …
— I think so, neighbour. That story will be …
— Do you think that John Kitty in Bally Donough believes it is going to come true? …
— The last time I was in Bally Donough they all gathered round — those of them that weren’t in England — they were all gathered around John Kitty under a bunch of nettles between the houses, and there he was prophesying away.
— Did he say that England would go up in a ball of flames and in a bunch of ashes right up to the sky?
— In a ball of flames and ashes! Ball of flame and ashes! He said that the priests would be just as hungry as the people. Hang on a minute, now … He said that you wouldn’t know a man from a woman. Wait now … He said more … He said that the pint would be only two pence again.
— Your women know fuck all about fuck nothing! Did he say that England would go up in a ball of flames? …
— He didn’t go that much into it actually, neighbour. He had only got to the bit where Tight Arse was woken up in the cellar, and that he’d flourish his sword to free Ireland. And then I pulled out income tax returns on their wills …
— John Kitty is right. Every single word of it is about to come true …
— … Did I hear you right, Billy, Eamon de Valera is winning …
— That’s all wrong! Billy said that Richard Mulcahy is the one who’s winning …
— Eamon de Valera and Richard Mulcahy were outside the church after Mass, just a month ago. It was a joint meeting …
— A joint meeting?
— A joint meeting?
— Had dad! A joint meeting? …
— Crikies! A joint meeting? …
— A joint meeting about the emergency services …
— Eamon de Valera spoke about the Republic?
— Richard Mulcahy spoke about the Treaty? …
— No, they didn’t say a word about the Republic, or about the Treaty … To make a long story short, they both said much the same thing: they were thanking the people …
— Ah, now I get it, Billy! That was a neat trick of Dev’s to fool the other crowd …
— That’s a lie! Every old stopped clock in the cemetery knows that it was a plan of Mulcahy’s to make de Valera go the other way. Would you agree with me, Billy?
— Watch it now, Billy! You have reached the age of reason and understanding, and remember we got you a pay rise and promotion. Remember now, that you were only “An Assistant Rural Postman” …
— My friends and companions! I am here today! …
— If you were here during the election …
— Just like me, Billy has no interest in politics …
— Ya knobber ya. Get back in under the bed …
— You witch! …
— Where are you, Paul? Your friend was out and around the country again this year …
— The Great Scholar! I don’t believe it! …
— He didn’t go near Peter the Publican one way or the other … You won’t make a total langer out of him there anymore. You just watch, but Peter the Publican’s daughter won’t be pulling the wool over anyone’s eyes any longer, neighbour! … Oh, every why for ever! The foxy fuzz catching her one Sunday here at the second Mass. There was nobody here from Shana Kill, Clogher Savvy, or Bally Donough who were home from England who weren’t inside in the boozer. They said that the Great Scholar tipped off the police to raid the place. He has a big job in the government …
— She won’t try her tricks in the parlour any more …
— She ripped me off …
— And me …
— I had nothing to be grateful to her about. Certainly not. After the second half-one it was four pence, and after the sixth it was eighteen. I tell you what now, the doctor from the Fancy City was right: it was only any good for the small gut, stout was what suited the bigger gut. Too much whiskey destroyed the small gut, and the big one shrivelled up with fever. There was no pain …
— … She needn’t have worried, good neighbour, if the only thing against her was that she opened on Sunday, but more people said that she watered down the whiskey …
— Will she lose the license? …
— Could happen, neighbour. Maybe so. But somehow I doubt it …
— Then what was it all about, what good was it? …
— Huckster Joan will certainly lose her license to do what she is doing. She’s being tried at the Military Tribunal … Tea on the black market. The sergeant nabbed her …
— The sergeant, imagine that, and she used to give him tea and fags on the side! …
— You killed me, lousy ugly Joan! …
— The Dog Eared crowd was it, neighbour? The youngest one of them has fecked off with a tailor in England …
— Good man, Billy! Good man! …
— He sliced Rootey’s youngfella from Bally Donough …
— Oh, yes, the same sneaky kidney stabbing that the Dog Eared crowd did on me! They’ll hang him yet …
— They say he’ll be locked up …
— He’ll be hanged …
— They say, neighbour, that it’s easy enough to hang somebody in England, alright. But I don’t think he’ll be hanged all the same. He’ll get a couple of years in prison, maybe …
— A couple of years in prison! Fuck that for a brass monkey of a prison! If they don’t hang him …
— They say that the Postmistress’s daughter will get eighteen months, or even a couple of years … Letters that had money in them, neighbour, but the bloodhounds from the Head Office smelled a rat when it was about letters from the Great Scholar …
— My goodness me! After I spent twenty years teaching her …
— I swear now, Postmistress, believe me now, neighbour, I wouldn’t like anything to happen to your daughter … Easy now, dear Master, easy! … I swear by the blessed finger that I never once opened one of your letters! … Oh, maybe she did, Master, but I never helped her …
— My eldest lad, Billy, is he hanging out all the time with Top of the Road’s daughter? …
— I think so, neighbour. Himself and Top of the Road’s two daughters will be at the next court. They say that that other son of yours …
— Tom …
— They say that himself and Tommy’s son caught them rolling in the hay in the morning early …
— The second son, and Tommy’s son caught the eldest boy swiping turf from Top of the Road’s snotty sooty shower! …