John: How r ya Mick?
Mick: Ah sure I’m grand. Not a bother.
John: Sure same as meself so.
Mick: How’s the missus?
John: Sure she’s grand too. How’s yours?
Mick: Ah she’s alright I suppose.
John: D’ya know who I seen up there the other day?
Mick: No. Who did ya see?
John: Yer ma. God what’s his name?
Mick: Was it yer man Danny?
John: Who’s he now?
Mick: You know Danny with that oul car? Yer man? Ah you do. Yer man.
John: Ah yeah. That fella up the road.
Mick: That’s him. Was it him you’re talkin’ about?
Mick: Alright so.
John: It’s that other fella. The one with all those dogs.
Mick: Who’s that now? The dogs. All dem dogs?
John: Over by ‘The Big Wall’?
Mick: No. Maybe. When I think of it now no.
John: Well who is it? You know The Wall? The Big Wall? Sure you know it.
Mick: Of course I know The Wall, ya feckin’ ejit.
John: Ha ha. Of course. Well?
Mick: Well feckin’ what?
John: Is it yer man with all the dogs by The Big Wall?
Mick: Ah ya feckin’ gobshite. I told ya that.
John: Ya did in your hole!
Mick: Sure maybe I didn’t. Anyway – it’s not him.
John: For feck’s sake!
Mick: Well tell me then. You’re the one with your shite clues.
John: Clues. What are ya? A feckin’ detective?
Mick: No. But you could at least give me a hint.
John: You know the other fella up the road with the dogs.
Mick: Ah for fuck’s sake.
John: Sure we had that cuppa with him that time. He takes a load a milk in it. Bit mad he is.
Mick: Ah sure Joe Driscoll. Sure you shoulda said!
John: Yeah. Well it’s not him.
Mick: Feckin’ hell. Is there another fella with the dogs?
Mick: God Johnnie. You’re driving me mad!
John: Hang on. Hang on. You’re pressuring me. Oh sure it’s not them. It’s the fella up the road.
Mick: Which feckin fella?
John: Yer man who likes the drink.
Mick: Half of Kilmary likes the drink.
John: Yeah. I suppose. The fella that drinks the Guinness.
Mick: Ah for feck’s sake. Sure isn’t that all the fellas fond of the drink.
John: Oh yeah. Well he has a cat.
Mick: Ah sure Joe Cuddy! Why didn’t you say so ya ludramán!
Mick: Well what about him?
John: Ah nothing. Sure I met him is all.
Mick: Come ‘ere an’ I’ll feckin’ bate the head of ya’