vignette

Newbridge Pet Emporium.
Thursday afternoon.
The shop is full of listless citizens examining fishing rods.
Enter Ireland's greatest living poet stage left.
He is seeking a toy for MC Hamster.
He has heard tell of little plastic spheres with doors on the sides that you can put hamsters in, to allow them to exercise freely around a floor space.
He thinks MC will love one of those.
He goes up to the counter where a listless teenager awaits.
"Have you got any hamster balls?" he asks brightly.
The listlessness both of the clientele and the teenager dissipates instantly.
The pet shop fills with a most seditious laughter.
Moments later, red faced and clutching a newly purchased hamster ball, I flee.