Martin Cahill was indeed a deeply unpleasant man, but he had a wit and cunning that allowed him to make a laughing stock of the Gardai (police) and authority in general.

He took on certain robberies that the IRA had decided weren't worth the risk, especially the Alfred Beit collection and a jewellery warehouse. The IRA came looking for a share of the proceeds but he told them to get stuffed. He then made contact with the UVF to help him fence the stolen paintings and jewellery. He was completely apolitical and did it purely as a business proposition.

When the IRA heard about this, and a Dublin pub hosting one of their social evenings was subsequently bombed by the UVF, they decided to kill him. It was their last act, in the south at least, before going on ceasefire. Not many people shed a tear for him, and some Gardai could not hide their jubilation.

The film is not bad, but director John Boorman's characterisation of him in interviews as an old-style romantic rebel was impossible to stomache. The book is a much more accurate portrait.

One dimension that becomes clear on reading it is the relationship of paramilitary activity with organised crime. The IRA regarded Cahill as undesirable competition at a time when they themselves were raising funds through robbery, kidnap and extortion. His perception was they were no different to himself.