house of the saints and 388 sages and the brideen Alan- nali is lost in dirt and blocked with refuse, getting on like Shuley Luney, enlisted in Tyrone’s horse, the Irish Angri- cultural and Prepostoral Ouraganisations, to help the Irish muck to look at me) and I am illuding to the server of servants and rex of regums and making it up, swank it up, over their lyingin underlayers, spick and spat trowelling a gravetrench for their fourinhand forebears. Vote for vour club! — Wait! — What! — Her