The brother has it cracked.
Is that so?
Do you know what he’s gone and done?
I do not.
I said, do you know what he’s gone and done?
I remain in the dark as to his achievements.
He’s only gone and organised a party for yer man.
Is that a fact?
It is. One hundred years old, he is.
I did not realise your brother was so advanced in years.
Not the brother, it’s yer man is one hundred. Though he’s not been looking well these last few years. The brother thinks he’s been using doctors. If you want to hear the pay being given out in right style get the brother on to the doctors. As a man who understands first principles, the brother thought a party might cheer yer man up. Oh, things is moving in great style up in the digs, with the organising – even the landlady is involved. The brother had her on a bus up to Skerries to invite James Joyce himself down.
I fear I have no idea what’s happening.
Keep up man, it’s a party to celebrate yer man’s centenary.
And where is this event to be celebrated?
In that lovely shop, the Palace on Fleet Street. Don’t forget to put the 1st April in your diary, to have a drop of porter, and celebrate yer man’s life.
Thank you, I never drink before six.
And a wise rule for those that have their health. Begob, here’s my ‘bus. Goodbye to you, and please remember me to the good lady.
I will indeed. Goodbye!