- Ah Mick, tis yourself. How's she cutting?
- How are you Pat, sure things are grand, so they are. Any sceal with ye?
- I was just having a natter with PJ in the bookies about dis Hockey malarkey. PJ's bullin', he reckons we bin shafted by De Teeshock, not gettin' de minster in north Dublin.
- Aye, 'tis a parsnip fer de books alrigh'. Who'd have known Bertie'd a Wallace up his sleeve, eh? D'ye geddit? Ace?
- Jaysus, Mick, don' give up de day job, as Bertie said to de TD. One ting abou' dere bein' no minster here - yer wan Wallace is from Meath. And suren isn't Meath de new north Dublin? Dere's more of us livin' out dere nowadays den dere are muckmunchers.
- True. Still, Squirelet Hockey mus' be fumin'. I'd be mighty browned off getting' overlooked like dat.
- An' he's easily overlooked, isn't he?
- I hear ye. I was often wonderin' why Bertie always picked wee fellas to work in de Department of Transport. Brennan, Roche, Cullen, Callely - not a wan of dem could order a pint withou' a stepladder.
- I've a theory on dat, so I do. I reckon it's 'cos all de bridges an' train carriages an' motorways look bigger in de publicity shots if ye have little people in front of dem.
- Jayney, I tink ye might be onto somethin' dere Pat. Wonder wha' made Bertie change his mind? Did dey buy a loada fisheye lenses in RTE 'specially for takin' pictures of yer man Gallagher? I hear he's a great man for de fishies.
- Ach, stop yer coddin' will ye? Listen, why's he called De Cope?
- Somethin' to do with a co-op up in Donegal, isn't dat it?
- Is dat all? I always taut it was 'cos he was a great man for gettin' stuff sorted. Nuttin' he couldn't cope with. I was feelin' mad confident he was goin' to sort out the mess Dublin's been left in.
- Well, we'll see how he copes under de Cullenary delights of the minister. He's gorra tough job ahead of him. Gettin' de traffic movin', sortin' de M50, fixin' de Luas, buildin' de Metro, privatisin' de buses, standin' up to de truckers, doin' sometin' for dem poor cyclists gettin' flattened ...
- Ye know me, Pat, fair as fair can be. Never one to be castin' aspersions witout reason. I'm all for givin' the lad a chance, so I am. As long as he puts the head down an' doesn't be spending' all his time swannin' around Killybegs in his Copemobile, he'll be alrigh' by me.
