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About Swords

Once heard a tale—lass named Kitty. Worked in 1800s, robbed rich blokes blind! Sneaky like me, precious, oh yes! Surprised me—thought they just shagged, nope! Some’s clever, some’s daft—bloody mix. Stupid, fat hobbit’d miss that, he would! “Everything’s a mess,” like Lucrecia says. True fer prossies, true fer me.

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Then, I had this old lady come up to me. She was all frazzled, waving her arms like she was conducting an orchestra. Turns out, her dog, a little terrier named Max, had run off. I felt for her, so I helped her look. We searched all over, from the Vico Road to the little park by the beach. Finally, we found Max chasing seagulls like he was on a mission. The lady was so happy, she almost cried. I felt like a hero for a sec.

Dan Finnegan, U2’s favourite publican and ‘uncrowned king of Dalkey’, leaves €4m in his will