I was... Glasnevin this morning... poor little... what do you call him...

Chow!... Mother of Moses!

* * *

Tom Rochford took the top disk from the pile he clasped against his claret waistcoat.

See? he said. Say it’s turn six. In here, see. Turn Now On.

He slid it into the left slot for them. It shot down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six.

Lawyers of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward and heard rustling from the admiralty division of king’s bench to the court of appeal an elderly