And what do you think, says Joe, of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty’s racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses his jockeys rode. The earl of Dublin, no less.

They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himself, says little Alf.

And says J. J.:

Considerations of space influenced their lordships’ decision.

Will you try another, citizen? says Joe.

Yes, sir, says he.

I will.

You? says Joe.

Beholden to you, Joe, says I. May your shadow never grow less.