Och is it yerself missus. Och come on in luv. Watch that ould rug for its a death trap...it could put ye through the bannisters there if ye caught the right corner aff it.

Ye haven't the wee bit of a feg on ye do ye luv. Am chokin' here. A haven't been down to the shap yet for the messages.(takes cigarette, lights and inhales deeply...has a body convulsing coughing fit)

These feckin' things'll be the death a me. Sure they have me kilt with the lambego.

Did ye hear the Pope on the wireless. A lovely wee man...a lovely wee man. Aye God love him but doesn't he have a fierce time aff it way some a them boys thats not priests atall, not priests atall. Sure some a them boys needs the red hot poker heh.

Anyway luv I was kilt with an ould turn there last week. A didn't know which end a me till point at the boul. Couldn't keep a thing in me...not even a man (laughs hysterically).

That's wile craic wha...hear shut that door luv ye know what their like round here. Come on an a'll put the kettle on.