#214 THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES

#214 THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES —Easy all, Myles Crawford said. No poetic licence. We’re in the archdiocese here. —And settle down on their striped petticoats, peering up at the statue of the onehandled adulterer. —Onehandled adulterer! the professor cried. I like...
#213 SOME COLUMN!—THAT’S WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID

#213 SOME COLUMN!—THAT’S WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID

SOME COLUMN!—THAT’S WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID —That’s new, Myles Crawford said. That’s copy. Out for the waxies’ Dargle. Two old trickies, what? —But they are afraid the pillar will fall, Stephen went on. They see the roofs and argue about where the different churches...
#212 RAISING THE WIND

#212 RAISING THE WIND

RAISING THE WIND —Nulla bona, Jack, he said, raising his hand to his chin. I’m up to here. I’ve been through the hoop myself. I was looking for a fellow to back a bill for me no later than last week. Sorry, Jack. You must take the will for the deed. With a heart and a...
#211 K.M.R.I.A

#211 K.M.R.I.A

K.M.R.I.A. —He can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles Crawford cried loudly over his shoulder. Any time he likes, tell him. While Mr Bloom stood weighing the point and about to smile he strode on...
#210 K.M.A.

#210 K.M.A.

K.M.A. —Will you tell him he can kiss my arse? Myles Crawford said throwing out his arm for emphasis. Tell him that straight from the stable. A bit nervy. Look out for squalls. All off for a drink. Arm in arm. Lenehan’s yachting cap on the cadge beyond. Usual blarney....