Why?
We can sell em, me an Peter.
Why?
Tis all about birth control and thats banned in Ireland.
Whats birth control?
Aw, Christ above, dont you know anything? Tis condoms, you
know, rubbers, French letters, things like that to stop the girls from get-
ting up the pole.
Up the pole?
Pregnant. Sixteen years of age an youre pure ignorant. Hurry up
an get the pages before everybody starts runnin to the shop for John
OLondons Weekly.
Im about to push away on the bike when Mr. McCaffrey runs
down the steps. Hold on, McCourt, well go in the van. Eamon, you
come with us.
What about Peter?
Leave him. Hell wind up with a magazine in the lavatory anyway.
Mr. McCaffrey talks to himself in the van. Nice bloody how do you
do ringing down here from Dublin on a fine Saturday to send us tear-
ing around Limerick ripping pages out of an English magazine when I
could be at home with a cup of tea and a nice bun and a read of The
Irish Press with my feet up on a box under the picture of the Sacred
Heart nice bloody how do you do entirely.
Mr. McCaffrey runs into every shop with us behind him. He grabs
the magazines, hands each of us a pile and tells us start tearing. Shop
owners scream at him, What are ye doing? Jesus, Mary and Holy St.
Joseph, is it pure mad ye are? Put back them magazines or Ill call the
guards.
Mr. McCaffrey tells them, Government orders, maam.There is filth
in John OLondon this week thats not fit for any Irish eyes and we are
here to do Gods work.
What filth? What filth? Show me the filth before ye go mutilatin
the magazines. I wont pay Easons for these magazines, so I wont.
Maam, we dont care at Easons.Wed rather lose large amounts than
have the people of Limerick and Ireland corrupted by this filth.
What filth?
Cant tell you. Come on, boys.
We throw the pages on the floor of the van and when Mr. McCaf-
frey is in a shop arguing we stuff some into our shirts. There are old
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