So how many sots have sat down on those benches in the late of night and started having conversations the other guy at the end, then get ticked off because the other guy won’t answer.
Hmp. Cran, dear, I assume you refer to the beverage, the setting, and the joie de vivre, which similarity struck me as amusing–and not to physiognomy. … not that D. isn’t adorable and all, but…well, the beard…
Still, I’d be proud to be D’s step-twin-- I reckon I’d be more of an evil twin, though.
Nice One Dubh! I came across one of those benches on my first trip to Dublin, many moons ago now, at twilight while I was walking the canal. Gave me quite a turn, I can tell you, and you weren’t even sitting on it.
I’ll never be able to play my favourite fiddle tune again - The Nine points of Roguery - without thinking that eight of the points live cunningly within that smile.
To help you sleep, the beard has been trimmed down so much since then that somebody commented “That’s better, now you like like somebody who has a job, a home and a f***in’ bank account”.