sancti innocentes

Wandering down main street Kilcullen on a warm August afternoon.
The Mammy is with me on her way to robbing the post office.
Collecting her old age pension, she calls it.
It comes to the same thing really.
Outside Berney's pharmacy I detach myself from her arm.
"Hang on a minute," sez I. "There's something I've been meaning to do."
At this point gentle travellers of the internet, I should tell you that my cousin John has recently become manager at Berney's pharmacy. A friend of mine known as Colers, has just been appointed dispensing chemist at the same pharmacy.
They've been due a royal visit from the mighty Heelers for some time.
The shop is fairly crowded when I enter.
Legend has it that since the 1960's you can walk into any pharmacy in the English speaking world, ask for "something for the weekend," and be discretely handed a package containing condoms.
I think it's about time we put this one to the test.
Colers is behind the counter.
"Colers," I cry warmly, shouldering my way forward. "I need something for the weekend."
I stand there expectantly.
Colers appears a tad nonplussed.
"You'll have to be more specific," sez he.
I grin broadly.
"Give me half a dozen condoms," I proclaim in a voice that could raise the dead.
Heads turn.
"On second thoughts make that a dozen," I bellow. "I'm feeling lucky."
This is my exit line.
I do not hang around to have my bluff called.
Rejoining the Lildebeest in the street, I find her counting her ill gotten gains.
"Come on," sez I. "Let's go for a coffee."
I have the aspect and gait of one who is tremendously pleased with himself.
Truly I am a man of simple pleasures.