The Poor Mouth by Flann O’Brien, Patrick C. Power Read Free Book Online Page A

matter simply of squalor. The murmured Latin at the graveside seemed to make the weather worse. The brother, keeping well to the back of the assembly, was quietly cursing in an undertone. I was surprised and indeed a bit shocked to see him surreptitiously taking a flat half-pint bottle from his hip pocket and, with grimaces, swallowing deep draughts from it. Surely this was unseemly at the burial of the dead? I think Father Fahrt noticed it.
    When all was over and the sodden turgid clay in on top of the deceased, we made for the gate. Mr Collopy was walking with a breathless stout man who had come on foot. When it was made known to us that this poor man had no conveyance, the brother gallantly offered his seat in the cab; this was gratefully accepted. The brother said he could borrow a bicycle near by but I was certain his plan was to borrow more than a bicycle, for there was a pub at Kill Avenue, which was also near by.
    On the way home Mr Collopy was a bit more animated, no doubt relieved that a painful stage in the ordeal was over, and introduced us to the stranger as Mr Rafferty.
    –I will not say, Rafferty, he said, that what-you-know was the sole reason for the woman’s demise. Not the sole reason, mind you. But by Christ it had plenty to do with it.
    –Don’t you know it had, Mr Rafferty said. Can’t you be bloody sure it had. Lord save us, you’d wonder is this a Christian country at all.
    –It’s a country of crawthumpers.
    –I had an idea the other night, Mr Collopy. In two years there will be a Corporation election. I believe you own your own house and you would be eligible for membership. Why not go forward as a candidate? You could put down a motion at the City Hall and shame all that bastards. The Town Clerk could be ordered to instruct the City Engineer or Surveyor or whatever he is called to dot the town with what we need.
    –I thought of that, Mr Collopy replied. But two years, you said? Only the Almighty knows how many unfortunate women would be brought to an early grave in that time. Ah, man alive, the worry and trouble of it all might even bring myself there.
    –Now don’t be letting silly thoughts like that come into your head. Ireland needs you and you know that.
    Mr Rafferty, politely refusing an invitation to come all the way with us, was dropped off at Ballsbridge. When we reached the house, we took off our dripping coats, Mr Collopy poked up the fire in the range, quickly had the crock on view, and sank into his chair.
    –Annie, he said, get me three glasses.
    When these were produced, he poured three generous measures of whiskey into each and added a little water.
    –On a morning like this, he said ceremoniously, and on a sad occasion like this, I think everyone here is entitled to a good stiff drink if we’re not going to get our death of cold. I disapprove of anybody taking strong drink before the age of forty-five but in God’s name let us take it as medicine. It is better than all those pills and drugs and falthalals those ruffians in the chemist shops will give you, first-class poison for the liver and kidneys.
    We drank to that: for me it was my first taste of whiskey but I was surprised to find that Annie treated the occasion quite casually, as if she was used to liquor. I found it made me drowsy, and I decided to go to bed for a few hours. I did so and slept soundly. I got up about five and was not long back in the kitchen when the brother came in. Mr Collopy had evidently spent the entire interval with the crock and did not notice the brother much or the unseemly fact that he was drunk. There is no other word for it: drunk. He sat down heavily and looked at Mr Collopy.
    –On a day like this, Mr Collopy, he said, I think I might have a drop of that tonic you have there.
    –For once I think you are right, Mr Collopy replied, and IF you will get another glass we will see what can be done.
    The glass was got and generously furnished. I was offered nothing and the drinking went