23 APRIL 1994, Page 37

Paddy

Moustached, beer-bellied, well able To carry a grudge with grace, He seemed like the perfect foreman — A carpenter easily assessing The grain of the men's mood, His rebuff 'I don't give a bollocks!'

Insouciant, puffing a cigar, He presided over our lunchbreaks, Squarely above it all.

But somewhere in the woods of his wit The light turned uniform grey: `Hitler did us all a favour.'

While we finished our tea and sandwiches As if it all hadn't gone dark And shrunk to the size of a moustache.

Mark Granier