heelers conquers brian byrne

Wandering up the stairs in the Tearman cafe.
Who do I espy at the top of the stairs but the famous Irish broadcaster, writer, poet, Brian Byrne sitting at his favourite table.
Yoikes.
What to do.
I've inadvertently caught his eye.
My instinct is to look down and hurry past.
But the stairs is long.
I can't look down now.
He's seen me and is glaring most glaringly.
I've got to just brazen it out.
I walk towards him holding the gaze.
His faces is flushed. The eyes are bulging a bit. He seems to be labouring under the weight of a great pression.
I draw level with him.
It is not Brian Byrne at all.
It is a local gangland rah man skank whom I would not wish to stare down in my wildest dreams.
The gang banger is trembling as I pass.
So the f--k am I.