Glasgow Belongs to Me - Book Cover

"Glasgow Belongs to Me" Excerpts

Laughter makes the world go round and after decades of humorous after-dinner speaking on the subject of 'Glasgow; Past and Present', Ron Culley has amassed hundreds of jokes. Below are but a few examples from a compendium of side-splitting jokes all about Glasgow and its extraordinary inhabitants.

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I Belong to Glasgow - Book Cover

"I Belong to Glasgow" Excerpts

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A Confusion of Mandarins - Book Cover

"A Confusion of Mandarins" Excerpts

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The Kaibab Resolution - Book Cover

"The Kaibab Resolution" Excerpts

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The Patriot Game - Book Cover

"The Patriot Game" Excerpts

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A Terrible Beauty Is Born - Book Cover

"A Terrible Beauty Is Born" Excerpts

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Book Cover

Glasgow Belongs to Me

Excerpt 1 - The Falklands

A Colonel of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards was walking down Bath Street in Glasgow when he saw a guy with no arms and no legs sitting in the gutter playing a mouth organ. A sign beside the guy read, 'Victim of the Falklands War.'

"Bloody disgraceful, that," said the Colonel, "the way this country treats its veterans!"

So saying, he pulled out his wallet, peels off two fifty pound notes and dropped them in the guy's hat.

The guy looked up and says, "Muchas graçias, senor."

Book Cover

Glasgow Belongs to Me

Excerpt 2 - Neds

Two Glasgow neds were up in front of the Sheriff on a charge of theft and breaking and entry.

Gravely, he considered the charge sheet.

"The two of you," he intoned, "I'm minded to consider a custodial sentence. However, I intend to remand you both for a week after which, if you can demonstrate that you've done something to benefit the community, I may reduce the sentence."

A week later, the two neds reappeared in front of the Sheriff.

"Well, what have you done to benefit the community?"

"Well, your Lordship," said the first. "I've kept maybe ten people out the jail."

"And how have you done that?"

"Well, I just drew a wee circle and a big circle on a bit of paper and I told people that the big circle was the size of your brain before you took drugs and the wee circle was the size of your brain after you took drugs!"

"Excellent," said the Sheriff. "And you?"

"The second ned drew himself up to his full length.

"I kept about fifty people out the jail," he said proudly.

"Pray tell, how."

"Well, I also drew a big circle and a wee circle on a bit of paper...then I told them that the wee circle was the size of your arsehole before you went into jail...."

Book Cover

Glasgow Belongs to Me

Excerpt 3 - Strathclyde Polis

Strathclyde Police, The SAS, and MI5 are all trying to prove that they are the best at apprehending criminals. The First Minister decides to give them a test. He releases a rabbit into a forest and instructs the organisation to catch it.

MI5 goes in. They place animal informants throughout the forest. They question all plant and mineral witnesses. After three months of extensive investigations they conclude that rabbits do not exist.

The SAS goes in. After two weeks with no leads they burn the forest, killing everything in it, including the rabbit, and they make no apologies. The rabbit had it coming.

Strathclyde Polis go in. They come out two hours later with a badly beaten bear, bloodied and bruised. The bear's yelling, "Okay! Okay! I'm a rabbit! I'm a rabbit!

Book Cover

Glasgow Belongs to Me

Excerpt 4 - Partick Thistle

Two men are fishing on a river bank in a remote area of the Clyde on a Saturday afternoon, miles away from a radio or TV.

Suddenly one man turns to the other and says, "Partick Thistle have lost again."

The other man was astonished and said, "How on earth do you know that?"

The other man replied, "It's quarter to five."

Book Cover

Glasgow Belongs to Me

Excerpt 5 - Winning the lottery

Mind you, Big Tam's done very well. He won the lottery.

Him and his wife, Senga hadn'y been getting on very well. …They were out for dinner last week and a big blonde came over and says to Big Tam… "Hello, Tam….good to see you, Tam"

His wife says, "Who's that?"

Big Tam says, "Alright, I may as well tell you ….that's my mistress!"

"Right says Senga……"That's us finished. I want a divorce."

Tam says. "Alright then…but so long as you remember…that's the tin lid on the Caribbean cruises, no more Gucci handbags, no more Stobbo Castle… the Lexus goes back…"

Just then… in walks his pal, Jimmy …

Senga says "Who's that wi' Jimmy?"

Tam says…"That's Jimmy and his mistress".

Senga says…. "She's no' as pretty as oors".

Book Cover

"I Belong to Glasgow"

Excerpt 1

Although football was king, we always had a range of alternative distractions that suggested themselves from time to time. One was building bogies. Usually this was inspired by one of us coming across a discarded pram whose wheels could yet be used for other purposes. We'd set to it, searching out a sturdy plank of wood and a couple of spars as axles. A piece of wood for a seat, a rope to provide for guide-reins and we'd be off to the Red Hills; a deserted piece of land adjacent to the Levern Burn which were suitably undulating in order to provide us with the required gradients. The Red Hills were merely the result of discarded shale from the mine workings below them. The entire area was set upon a land mass riddled with mines rendering much of it undevelopable, fit only for greening and landscaping in later years when housing developments were considered in the peripheral environs of Pollok. A dump, but when we were young, they were the Elysium fields.

Time and again we'd return home in tears as the bogies were inevitably driven to destruction, the final collision almost always causing its driver a similar amount of damage.

Book Cover

"I Belong to Glasgow"

Excerpt 2

Personal danger came during those many moments in play when we re-enacted the comic stories of the previous evening. Most superheroes wore capes and the nearest we could get to emulating these gods was to wear our duffle coats in a manner whereby only the hood was affixed to our body, attached to our head. It passed muster as an ersatz Superman costume but the peril lay in being apprehended in flight by a pal as by grabbing any part of the duffle coat, the caped crusader's head was almost torn from his shoulders. Thank goodness that whiplash injuries hadn't been invented in the 1950's.

Book Cover

"I Belong to Glasgow"

Excerpt 3

I suspect in an attempt to mollify a confused adolescent, my Gran and Grandpa took me almost immediately on a holiday to Dublin. I was only fourteen and this was my first trip abroad. I could barely cope with the excitement. The River Clyde in 1964 was still a bustling, dark and brooding, lead-coloured waterway and our mode of travel to Ireland was an overnight ship to Dublin. We boarded at the Broomielaw in the centre of Glasgow and were ushered below deck to a large hold where was assembled rows of the kind of chairs that were ubiquitous in schools; the hollow steel framed chairs with green canvas back and seats. Too confining for a fourteen year old, I wandered the deck on what was a beautiful, still, moonlit night and absorbed the movements, smells and noises of the ship as it sailed downriver past Greenock and out into an Irish Sea in a flat calm. It was a glorious evening and was sufficiently warm for me to snuggle down on deck on top of a large rolled tarpaulin and sleep comfortably for a while before being awakened by Grandpa who not unreasonably had become concerned at my disappearance. In those days, Health and Safety matters weren't given the attention they are today and I guess I could have slipped between the railings on the side of the ship, even though there wasn't much of a swell that night.

Book Cover

"I Belong to Glasgow"

Excerpt 4

Big Frankie, the guy in charge of the butcher's shop, was always very busy and usually I was last to receive any attention. He was possessed of a curious mixture of customer-fawning and customer-loathing and had a high pitched voice which I imagined only dogs could hear properly. I'd wait in the back shop while he conducted affairs out in front by smiling artificially at the customers while shouting tetchy back-shop instructions to young Sandy, an apprentice only a year or so older than me. I was astonished at the behaviour of Frankie who would routinely tip quantities of sawdust into the meat concoctions that would be minced in his machine in order to save on the cost of ingredients. Sandy was often delegated this task and one night so incensed was he at the truculent attitude of Frankie that having been instructed to make him yet another cup of tea, he duly put his finger to his lips, encouraging my silence, and promptly coaxed a brief stream of urine into the cup.

Both of us collapsed in deferred laughter when Frankie appeared a few minutes later and necked the tea in one gulp, issuing further gurgled, instructions to Sandy in his squeaky whine and handing me the boxed butchermeat without the slightest recognition that his tea had been tampered with.

Book Cover

"I Belong to Glasgow"

Excerpt 5

My first post was that of a social worker in Ferguslie Park, long regarded as the poorest, most deprived housing estate in Scotland. It was built with good intentions. The council decided to take, not 'problem families', but 'families with problems', and locate them in a small enclave towards the edge of the estate called Candren Oval. Here they installed Housing Assistants whose task was to support these families and assist them with debt problems and other impediments which precluded them securing better housing in other parts of the town. Unfortunately the sociology of poverty defeated the authorities as more and more 'good tenants' moved away from the escalating mayhem whereby violence and crime became increasingly rife. In the fullness of time and certainly by the time I'd arrived, the place was a byword for all the social ills that might befall a community. It was a madhouse. If ever anyone needed persuasion that Thomas Hobbes presented an accurate perception of the underclass in his seminal work, Leviathan, they need only have visited Ferguslie Park in those days to understand that their lot was indeed 'poor, nasty, brutish and short.'

Book Cover

"I Belong to Glasgow"

Excerpt 6

My discharge from hospital could have been conducted in a more elegant fashion, mind you. Before leaving, the ward sister asked me to take a shower in the bathroom at the end of the ward and upon completion, to provide a urine sample in a container that I'd find inside. I did so and bid her farewell by handing her the aforementioned container when the gradual, toe-curling realisation came over me that I'd just used a small flower vase in which to micturate. I can still see the look of complete bewilderment on her face as I handed her a cut-glass flower vase full of piss. I mustered up all of the little dignity I had left and dealt with the situation by pretending that nothing untoward had happened, flouncing out of the ward thanking all and sundry for a week's excellent health care. She must have thought I should be admitted immediately to another hospital, but this time perhaps, a lunatic asylum.

Book Cover

"A Confusion of Mandarins"

Excerpt 1

Sir Alistair Barrington's prostate gland was busily trying to kill him although he was unaware of this. In consequence of his condition, regular visits to the private lavatory in his office irked him as they were always frustratingly brief but yet had the advantage of returning him expeditiously to his busy desk.

Sir Alistair had been a very senior civil servant; a Mandarin, as members of the fourth estate earlier referred to him. The office provided for the job with which he was now entrusted was located deep within marble-faceted premises on London's Embankment. Faded but deep-piled carpets on the sixth floor gave his room a certain still silence, the only intrusion being the monotonous and languid ticking of an antique William Clement long-case striking clock which sounded the time on each hour.

Most of his time on that sunny London morning had been taken up by reading various communications. Three short phone calls and one visit to his office by Miss Hetherington, whose timid knock on his door reminded him that it was ten o'clock and time for a cup of tea, proved to be the only time he'd spoken since his arrival at his desk at six-thirty that morning. As she placed the Josiah Spode bone china teacup before him on his desk, the clock struck as it always did upon the arrival of his morning cup of tea.

Book Cover

"A Confusion of Mandarins"

Excerpt 2

It was dusk now. The car approached the harbour and slowed to a safe pace as the driver manoeuvred along the narrow concrete moorings at which were docked various sizes of motor yachts. Gently resting immediately opposite elegant restaurants, cocktail bars and expensive shops, sleek craft glimmered and purred in the moonlight, accommodating those who could afford to berth in this most exclusive bolt-hole.

Book Cover

"A Confusion of Mandarins"

Excerpt 3

Susan and Kim fell into easy conversation and despite himself, Liam found himself outside the interaction, assessing Kim, taking in her even, dimpled smile which showed off her perfect white teeth, her slim but muscular frame and her short blond hair that framed an impossibly pretty face. He calculated she must be in her mid-thirties and was obviously lithe and athletic. Jeez... she's the real deal. She's completely gorgeous and obviously very competent. Hmmm, sharp and charming.......I'm going to enjoy being around these two women over the next two weeks. They'd turn the head of a man whose neck was in traction!

Book Cover

"A Confusion of Mandarins"

Excerpt 4

"Yeah, I've heard his name," said Kyle. "Didn't I read that he was arrested some years ago in Spain when someone who owed him money was found dead with all ten toes amputated?

Brand shook his head. "That was his boss, Marcus Perry. He was released when a witness mysteriously disappeared. But it's a crime that's characteristic of the gang. They're not to be trifled with. Our information was that the man they killed told them everything they wanted to know after the second of his toes was amputated by a set of pliers...but they cut the rest off anyway, one at a time. Like I say, I know this man. He's an evil bastard."

Book Cover

"A Confusion of Mandarins"

Excerpt 5

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States of America".

A grim looking Bill Clinton stepped up onto a portico and placed his hands on a lectern on which some notes had earlier been placed.

"Thank you, General Hess. Let me begin by thanking everyone who is a part of the Grand Forks Air Force Base for what you do for our national security and especially for what you have done to support the people of the Grand Forks communities in these last few days following the floods caused by the Red River. I'm very proud of you. Thank you."

As he spoke, the crosshairs of the telescopic lens of a powerful Barrett M82 Sniper Rifle fell across his chest.

"As I think all of you know, I have just come from touring the devastation of the floods as well as a very moving community meeting, presided over by Mayor Owens, attended by Mayor Stauss and other mayors, the entire congressional delegation from North Dakota and from South Dakota, Senator Grams and Senator Wellstone from Minnesota, Congressman Collin Peterson from Minnesota, and the Governors from North Dakota and Minnesota...."

The crosshairs moved up slowly to rest on his forehead.

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"The Kaibab Resolution"

Excerpt 1

Las Vegas had suggested itself as a gradual golden glow in the night sky when the plane was still some ten minutes flying time from McCarran Airport. Liam Brannigan shifted uncomfortably in his seat and folded the in-flight magazine he'd already read disinterestedly on the outward leg of what had proved to be a relatively productive visit to Washington. His lazy gaze fell on a shapely stewardess making final landing arrangements before being drawn back to the diamond bright cluster of light emanating upwards from the city in which he had lived for the past two years.

Book Cover

"The Kaibab Resolution"

Excerpt 2

Brother Patrick had admonished himself in the past for enjoying a good drink but Father Michael had once counseled him that in the priesthood generally and that in the Dublin priesthood in particular, concern should only set in when he began to enjoy a "fierce drink." No one had ever managed to define the increments by which "good" became "fierce" became "terrible" and had not old Father McLaughlin, one of the most beloved and respected of men, been referred to only last week as a "terrible man for the drink?" He'd also heard of a well-known priest in Cork who'd developed a taste for a "terrible fierce drink." He obviously had nothing to worry about yet.

Patrick was confused, but in the meantime he'd see his young parishioners off the premises then join them again later down at the Liffey Bar for a jar and a blether. He stepped back into the shadow of the arched doorway and re-entered the chapel where he noticed a celebrant, head bowed, still seated in a rear pew. Pausing only to pick up a hymn book which had fallen to the floor, Patrick didn't even hear the muffled thwack of the silenced bullet which tore a hole in his throat and sent him reeling backwards through the doorway he'd just entered.

Book Cover

"The Kaibab Resolution"

Excerpt 3

Las Vegas Police Lieutenant John Regan enunciated his words with a staccato growl.

"Your problem is your attitude stinks, son. Now why don't you pick your things up off my desk and get out of my face?"  Regan glared at the back of the already departing, embarrassed cop. "I hear you been dealin' with the public like that again, I'll have you directing the goddamn traffic, you sonofabitch".

"He already directs the traffic, boss", corrected Sergeant Bilk, known ubiquitously and for obvious reasons as 'Bilko'.

Regan shouted after the disappearing cop. "I'll have you directing traffic with this night-stick shoved up your ass, you sonofabitch."

"Some of the guys figure he's gay as well, but I guess he'll get the point," said Bilko.

Book Cover

"The Kaibab Resolution"

Excerpt 4

The roe deer lapped at the spring water, raising its head every once in a while to permit visual and scent confirmation that no danger existed. Dappled sunlight fell on the small brook and made the water sparkle like crystal. A few dusty paths between the pine trees on its banks signaled the importance of the water hole to the local wildlife.

A noise startled the deer just sufficiently for it to straighten its forelegs, bringing its body round to investigate further. Almost simultaneously, the crack of a rifle sped a bullet towards the animal, burying itself in its rear quarters and causing it to crash helplessly into the shallow pool.

"Jesus Christ, Edson, you are for sure the worst godamn shot in this man's army."

"I hit it, didn't I?" growled the hunter, knowing the ridicule he could expect upon his return to the collection of log cabins they called base camp.

"Yeah, right in the ass. Three feet from a kill shot."

"You sonofabitch. You snapped a twig deliberately. I had that deer right in my sights but you're just trying to make me look stupid in front of the guys. I've a good mind to…" Edson grabbed angrily for the lapel of his partner's camouflage jacket with his left hand only to stop short with a yelp as the twelve inch blade of a hunting knife threatened to separate his nose from his upper lip.

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"The Patriot Game"

Excerpt 1

In her farmhouse just outside the Kerry village of Castlemaine, Sinéad O'Grady finished drying the plate she'd used for a meal of herring and potatoes, placing it on top of four others, none of which were of the same size or design. Placing the drying cloth over the rear of a chair in the small kitchen, she took a damp towel and opened the heavy metallic door of the cooking range within which, golden and crusted brown now, was a rhubarb pie. The old, blackened range was the centerpiece of the kitchen and also provided warmth. It was adorned with copper pans, empty bottles and dried flowers. It was a most efficient cooking and heating system; maintenance free, other than the soot which it produced in surprising quantities and on a daily basis.

She lifted the baking tray at each end using the cloth as protection and hoisted it up onto the table. Looks perfect, she thought. The boys'll enjoy this when they arrive. A sharp tug on the pantry door opened it permitting her to stand on tip-toe and reach up to the top shelf, bringing down an almost full bottle of Paddy's Whiskey which she dusted casually with one hand before placing it next to the sink. Returning to the top shelf she removed a large tub of oats with some difficulty and placed it on the kitchen table. Pulling over a metal basin, Sinéad poured the contents of the box into it removing a length of fabric which she unwrapped to reveal a Webley Break-Top Revolver and a second pouch with a dozen .455 caliber bullets. The barrel offered little resistance when she held the gun by the handle and opened it, placing six bullets, one in each chamber. A satisfactory clicking whirr resulting from her testing the free movement of the chamber indicated the readiness of the revolver for use. Opening the drawer in which she kept her cutlery, she placed the now loaded weapon towards its rear.

Book Cover

"The Patriot Game"

Excerpt 2

Rising from his desk, Mencken lifted a file from a cabinet and returned to his chair, signaling to Weber that he should sit as well.

"How long have you been a member of the Waffen Schutzstaffel...the SS?"

"For four years, Herr Mencken."

"And before that, a professor of history at Heidelberg University?"

"Yes, Obergruppenführer. But for only two years before I joined the Waffen SS."

Mencken studied the file as if for the first time although he'd poured over it on numerous occasions.

"I'm being asked to nominate a member of the Waffen SS for a mission. One that requires intelligence, an excellent command of the English language and someone who has seen battle." He closed the file. "You meet all requirements Sturmbannführer."

"I am at your service, Obergruppenführer Mencken."

"You lost your toes to frostbite on the Russian Front?"

"Two on each foot. Many others lost their lives."

"Quite." He consulted the file again. "And as a result of your bravery in battle you have been awarded the Iron Cross 1st Class, the Wound Badge in Silver and the Eastern Front Medal. You have been promoted three times. On the last occasion to Major? "

"Yes, Obergruppenführer Mencken."

The General rose and poured himself a second glass of schnapps, this time pouring one for Weber as well. He placed one of the glasses before him and continued...

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"The Patriot Game"

Excerpt 3

Dragging the body over to the dying embers of the fire, he picked up the remains of the can of petrol and poured it over the dead man. He lifted a piece of lit kindling and paused as if to remember the face of the sadistic beast he'd just killed before casually throwing the stick on to his corpse. After a momentary pause, during which it appeared that the gasoline vapour was making up its mind about whether or not to ignite, it exploded in a crump and engulfed the dead Obersturmführer in flames.

Book Cover

"The Patriot Game"

Excerpt 4

He took out and lit a cigarette, placing it in an ivory cigarette holder as a prelude to drinking his coffee before continuing.

"What I tell you now is top secret. At the start of the war, we developed a plan called Plan Green which involved a full German invasion of Ireland in support of the invasion of Britain, which we called Operation Sea Lion. This plan had two purposes. Firstly, we needed to prepare adequately for the possibility of invading Ireland. England's back door. This was only sensible. Secondly, it was used as a credible threat, a feint that would tie up British forces on their west coast and in Ulster, away from the coastal counties of the south."

Book Cover

"The Patriot Game"

Excerpt 5

Today he was to be fitted for a suit and other clothes befitting a German General who might well meet with Taoiseach Eamon de Valera, the political leader of the Republic of Ireland. A case was provided him as well as documents showing him to be a member of the German Legation in Dublin. Just in case of problems, he was shown how he could access a hidden compartment in his case and retrieve a small Walther P38 side-arm, a knife and two small capsules. The Doctor who instructed him on their use was quite matter-of-fact when describing their effect.

"These capsules, as you can see, are approximately the size of a small kidney bean. They consist of a thin-walled glass ampoule covered in a black rubber coating to protect against accidental breakage and are filled with a concentrated solution of potassium cyanide. It is important for you to note, however, that they are never swallowed whole. Instead, they are first crushed between your molars to release the fast-acting poison contained within. Brain death occurs within minutes and the heartbeat stops immediately thereafter. A suicide pill swallowed without first being crushed in this way would pass through your digestive tract and do no harm."

He could be describing how most effectively to take a cough medicine, thought Weber.

"Thank you doctor. Most helpful."

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"The Patriot Game"

Excerpt 6

Éamon de Valera stopped cleaning his spectacles with a light cloth and pulled gently at the curtain in his office to reveal a day whose weather showed promise. It was still early but a weak sun heralded a quiet, still morning. A knock on his door had him turn and his long-serving private secretary, Miss Kathleen O'Connell joined him with a tray full of papers.

"Good morning Taoiseach. I have the overnight correspondence."

"Thanks, Miss O'Connell. Has it arrived?"

"On the top, sir."

De Valera moved round behind his large oak desk and sitting, placed his round spectacles back on the bridge of his nose, fiddling with the wire earpiece. He narrowed his eyes, the better to focus his failing vision on the paper in front of him.

"So, another epistle from that wind-bag, Mr. Churchill. He's a terrible man for his euphuistic and ostentatious letters. Let's hope he didn't write this note with the help of several large brandies as he has done in the past... let's just see what he's on about this time."

Book Cover

"A Terrible Beauty Is Born"

Excerpt 1

The insipid lambency of a yellow dawn permitted only limited vision as a pair of binoculars slowly swept the sea mist shrouding the sand dunes just outside of Louth in Ireland. A few seagulls squealed and screeched over the calm waters seeking food, their beating wings providing the only discernible movement of otherwise still air. Gradually a grey shape out at sea made itself known to the excited soldier.

"Jonjo...I think the boat's arrived. I can see something out there in the fog."

"Gimme these," said Sáirsint Jonjo Foley, leaning into the sand dune and refocusing the field-glasses. "Where exactly, Timmy?"

"To your left. It's coming through the fog to your left."

Donnaghy's mouth fashioned itself into a lop-sided gawp as if somehow better to enhance his visual acuity. Behind his horned-rimmed spectacles his eyes were tense. Further suggested movements brought the shape into view and a few adjustments to the lenses allowed focus.

"Bejeesus, you're not wrong, Timmy. It's a boat alright. But is it the Asgard?"

"Must be, Jonjo. Will I call up the men?"

"Not yet, Timmy. We'll want to make sure it's our boat and we've four battalions just over the road in the park only minutes away. We've time yet." He continued his examination of the approaching vessel. "Tell you what, Timmy. Would you be so good as to nip back across the road and ask Bulmer Hobson to step over? He'll want to see this. And tell Declan Monaghan to come forward."

Book Cover

"A Terrible Beauty Is Born"

Excerpt 2

Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Matthew Nathan GCMG, PC, the British Under-Secretary for Ireland, paused, sipped water from a glass and moved towards the conclusion of his speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you again for coming along his morning to hear me speak before you attend Sunday Mass. I hope I have impressed upon you the obvious truth that the world is in substantial peril. The German army is great in number, well equipped and is intent upon our demise. As we gather here today we believe them to be preparing a declaration of war on Serbia, Russia, France, Belgium and Great Britain. We, of course, will not permit the Boche to invade these shores and more than that, will repulse them and remind them just how foolish they are to consider action against the forces of King George and the British Empire. Already we have countless thousands of young men, the flower of the Empire, massing in the south of England against the day when we have to make determined, steady progress through the fields and highways of France in order to bring the Hun to heel."

He leaned forward, placed his palms on the table before him and lowered his tone, hoping to summon up further gravitas.

"But we need more troops and this morning I ask you as proud Irishmen to consider joining His Majesty's forces. If you have sons of the appropriate age, then my plea is to invite them to enlist. We need every able-bodied man to join us in our great endeavour. For it is a glorious endeavour and we have God on our side...that is a moral truth. Already, well over one hundred thousand Irishmen have joined the British Army and will fight bravely on the front line when called to do so. And many thousands of women are becoming nurses to tend the wounded both at home and abroad. Tonight I beseech you to join and to encourage others to join. Ours is a noble and just cause. Our Irish sons must, to the best of their ability to go where ever the firing line extends, in defence of right, of freedom and of religion in this war. It would be a disgrace forever to our country otherwise. I thank you."

As he finished his peroration to a smattering of applause, two young men in the second front row made their way to the recruiting sergeant handily located at the rear of the room.