Rosary for a reporter
It was at this time that a woman reporter from London, dressed doubtless smartly by Fleet .Street standards but looking like a ludicrous tart in Connemara. tracked him down. Joan Littlewood having been letting it become known in fringe show-biz circles 'Look, it's no good yot torturing another commuter in front of nu. We aunt go over 9 per cent.' that Brendan was dying. This woman reporter took Brendan away from where he was quietly drinking Guinness. and filled him up with whiskey. and found a donkey and borrowed it. and sat Brendan on this donkey, and put a pint of beer in each of his hands, and then had him photographed. She was more or less done with him by now, and she brought him back to the place where she had borrowed him 'for half an hour' a cou- ple of hours later. He had been very pleasant to her, allowing her to make a fool of him sitting on the donkey, and he left affec- tionate. He goosed her and tried to kiss her. She took horrified offence, smelling the drink she had bought him on his breath. He, con- trite, went to the bar and—they stocking such things in Connemara bars—bought her a rosary and placed it round her neck. He. who had been wronged, ended up apologising.
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