Hmmm. Churches in France do seem to be suffering a terrible run of luck lately.

[Sir C]

I would refer you to the parable of the widow's mite and point out that, in spiritual terms, my ancestors' donations were of far greater value than those of Lorenzo de Medici.

Balls to your ancestors. Balls I say. Your ancestors aren't putting a new roof on Notre Dame, are they? Useless dead ****s.

[Burney]

Balls to your ancestors. Balls I say. Your ancestors aren't putting a new roof on Notre Dame, are they? Useless dead ****s.

Balls to my ancestors? This is fighting talk.

Talking of that sort of thing, I may have to go to Limerick on business. I'm afraid I may revert to type.

[Sir C]

Balls to my ancestors? This is fighting talk.

Talking of that sort of thing, I may have to go to Limerick on business. I'm afraid I may revert to type.

You've moved into the farming game?

I can point you towards some excellent pubs. Well they were excellent in the 1970s, anyway.

[Burney]

You've moved into the farming game?

I can point you towards some excellent pubs. Well they were excellent in the 1970s, anyway.

No. We are launching a product in Ireland that I am fronting (presumably on the grounds that I have an Irish name and look Irish).

I'm wondering whether I should do the accent.

[Sir C]

No. We are launching a product in Ireland that I am fronting (presumably on the grounds that I have an Irish name and look Irish).

I'm wondering whether I should do the accent.

In Limerick? They'll hang you for a witch if you go in talking Dublin.

[Burney]

In Limerick? They'll hang you for a witch if you go in talking Dublin.

Hmmm. Fair point. I'm probably best off doing posh English. Their hands will instinctively be drawn to their forelocks the minute I speak and they shall then be as putty in my hands.

Figuratively, of course. I'm not going to touch the ghastly culchies, am I?

Good God! Can you imagine?? There isn't enough Dettol in the world.

[Sir C]

Hmmm. Fair point. I'm probably best off doing posh English. Their hands will instinctively be drawn to their forelocks the minute I speak and they shall then be as putty in my hands.

Figuratively, of course. I'm not going to touch the ghastly culchies, am I?

Good God! Can you imagine?? There isn't enough Dettol in the world.

Dunno mate, all you thick paddies are the same to me.