He moved to go.
—Well, glad to see you looking fit, he said. Meet you knocking around.
—Yes, Mr Bloom said.
—Tell you what, M’Coy said. You might put down my name at the funeral, will you? I’d like to go but I mightn’t be able, you see. There’s a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then the coroner and myself would have to go down if the body is found. You just shove in my name if I’m not there, will you?
—I’ll do that, Mr Bloom said, moving to get off. That’ll be all right.
—Right, M’Coy said brightly. Thanks, old man. I’d go if I possibly could. Well, tolloll. Just C. P. M’Coy will do.
—That will be done, Mr Bloom answered firmly.
Didn’t catch me napping that wheeze. The quick touch. Soft mark. I’d like my job. Valise I have a particular fancy for. Leather. Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. Bob Cowley lent him his for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of it from that good day to this.
Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, smiled. My missus has just got an. Reedy freckled soprano. Cheeseparing nose. Nice enough in its way: for a little ballad. No guts in it. You and me, don’t you know: in the same boat. Softsoaping. Give you the needle that would. Can’t he hear the difference? Think he’s that way inclined a bit. Against my grain somehow. Thought that Belfast would fetch him. I hope that smallpox up there doesn’t get worse. Suppose she wouldn’t let herself be vaccinated again. Your wife and my wife.
Wonder is he pimping after me?
I wonder if part of the reason Bloom finds M’Coy so tiresome is because M’Coy’s wife is also a singer and apparently not a very talented one. As if he resents the association M’Coy makes between his wife and Molly. I was interested to find out exactly what M’Coy does as a job, but couldn’t seem to find anything in my normal references, so I posed the question to the James Joyce community on twitter. Thanks to the help of @ and further clarification from@ I found out he’s had a slew of jobs but at the moment appears to be secretary to the city coroner, which would explain why he would need to miss the funeral if the drowned body turns up. His character is described in greater detail in Joyce’s Dubliners. ( source ) It’s also apparent now that social ineptness is not M’Coy’s only drawback as he appears to be somewhat of a thief, having stolen Bob Cowley’s Valise.