Short Fiction of Flann O'Brien (Irish Literature) Read Online Free PDF Page B

proclaimed that Maxwelton Braes were ‘bonn-ee.’
    “A year went by, and the situation changed again. There was another house just next to mine, on the left-hand side, and one morning I perceived, over the din of ‘Annie Laurie’ and the racket of the other man, someone announcing to the world that a distinguished guest was about to give a ‘Talk’ on ‘The Decoration of the Modern Sitting-room.’
    “More time went by. Annie Laurie was still alive, so lively that I supposed that the flower of second youth was upon her. Daventry was coming in at its very best on one side, and Radio Paris was steering the revelry on the other. A barrel organ could be heard constantly in that neighbourhood, that and a piper whose ears and pipes are far from being in tune, unknown to him. . . .”
    “T ALKS ”
    “Faith,” I said, “that’s an awful state of affairs. What did you do?”
    “A story with no good in it, without a doubt. I wrote to the Minister for Posts and Telegraphs. He said that he had a plan. ‘Talks’ would be broadcast, advising the public, that would bring about an improvement in my situation. Maybe. ‘TALKS’ my granny! I said. I fetched a long, sharp knife, and I murdered the two men who were so fond of the radio (and one of those poor lads with eight children). I was about to dispatch ‘Annie Laurie’ to her eternal rest, when I remembered it was time for me to be on my way to the Congress at Lausanne.”
    “The Congress?”
    “Yeah. Don’t you recognise me? I’m Napoleon Bonaparte!”
    “Begob, you’re right,” said I, panicking a little.
    “Wait ’til you see my lovely knife.” The red eyes were twinkling like the stars on Halloween night.
    “I’ll have a look at it tomorrow,” I said, striding away with my best foot forward.

 
    The Reckonings of our Ancestors (1932)
    by Brian Ó Nualláin
    Below is a selection from a bundle of papers recently found hidden inside one of the walls of the National Library, as those same walls were being demolished, repaired and renovated by men from the Office of Public Works in Dublin. It is believed that these papers were wrapped around the lunch of a workman hundreds of years ago, when the walls of the library were first being constructed, and that they were sealed inside the wall by accident. This theory is confirmed by the stench of fish and chips on the paper .
    As regards the writing itself, it is clear that it is a selection of letters which were sent to a leading newspaper or magazine long ago; we do not know its name, however, and there is no information on it to be found in the old books at all .
    The text has been fully edited, abbreviations have been expanded, and all instances of Old Irish have been translated to clear New Irish .
    *
    Dear Sir,
    One night when myself and my mates here in Almhuin were together in the one assembly and in the one spot and in one sleeping-place, having chased, hunted, and slaughtered across the hills, gentle grasslands, and woodlands of Éireann, it was clear and evident to us that we would not be allowed our sleep, or permitted to remedy our exhaustion, for there were huge crowds and gangs of corner-boys out on the street at strange, occult hours of the night, playing football and “The Scotsman’s Leap” [hopscotch], and hallooing, with bonfires and tremendous roaring.
    When my companions and I tried to converse with some of them, furthermore, they responded with reproach and dire insults, and said they were the quietest and most peaceful crowd you could hope for.
    Where are the Guards? The High King?
    —With great respect,
Fionn Mac Cumhaill Mac A., etc.
    *
    My dear friend,
    In Doire an Chairn the other afternoon, I heard a blackbird singing. I believe this is the first time I have heard it so early in the year. Do any other readers have similar stories?
    —Yours etc.,
Fhlaithbheartach Mac Colla, poet. 1
    *
    Amiable master,
    I went from Baile Gréine to Sliabh Fhuaith by chariot, and for that journey,