the sagacity of a man called heelers

Wandered into Clarkes Menswear in the town of Newbridge.

"I didn't expect to see you here today," intones the proprietor Vivian Clarke by way of welcome.

I pick up an expensive jewelled pullover and place it on the counter.

"Why not?" sez me.

"I thought if Wales lost on Saturday you weren't going to buy another jumper for the next ten years," quoth he.

I nod sagely.

"To hell with poverty Clarke," I cry, "we'll kill a hin."

And somewhere the ghost of Granny Moran is smiling.