Tongues never still. Wagging and wagging. In one shopkeeper's ear and out to a dozen others. And in a thrice don't they have the whole story all over… - J. P. Donleavy

Where do I keep my feelings. Of ferocious anger. While I make all my pleasant replies.

Now kneel down in that booth while I give ye me special yule blessing. Get down in that booth. I know you're standing, you dirty ould cheat. Get down. For Jesus, what are you doing, ripping the phone out? Repeat after me, the Lord is my shepherd as I am one of his sheared sheep.
"The Lord is my shepherd as I am one of his sheared sheep."

I know this is a dreadful inconvenience for you, Miss Frost. I want you to know I really appreciate it. I have till now counted my friends on a hand of amputated fingers.