The Ginger Man

by J.P. Donleavy

“What will you have to drink, Kenneth?” “Who’s paying?” “Just been to visit my broker with an electric fire.” “Then buy me a cider. Does Marion know you’ve hocked the fire?” “She’s away.

Sunday. Day set aside for emptiness and defeat. Dublin city closed, a great gray trap. Only churches doing business, sacred with music, red candles and crucified Christs. And the afternoons, long lines of them waiting in the rain outside cinemas.

Become a lover of women over fifty. They’re the ones that’s looking for it.

“That’s what I like about Ireland, so open about hatreds. I guess all I want out of this life is a decent fire in the grate, a rug on the floor and a comfortable chair to sit in and read.

when you don’t have any money, the problem is food. When you have money, it’s sex. When you have both it’s health, you worry about getting rupture or something. If everything is simply jake then you’re frightened of death. And look at these faces, all stuck with the first problem and will be for the rest of their days.”

Dignity in debt, a personal motto. In fact a coat of arms. Bowler hat crossed by a walking stick.

for the next silent minute he was the sanest man on earth, bled of his seed, rid of his mind.

Money is what you’re after.” “I’d hardly put it that way.” “But that’s what you’d like, isn’t it?” “Doesn’t one work towards saving one’s soul, too,

There must be a lot of steps to heaven. And Ireland is closest of all. But they’re ruining Jesus with publicity.

Tony was telling me about a time when they went over the border. Everyone going to shoot a policeman, couldn’t hold them back, going to declare the North under the tricolor. They get over the border, pockets filled with homemade bombs, hand grenades and gelignite. Then they meet a policeman. There are forty of them and one policeman and he comes over and says, ’ere, ’ere, this ’ere is King’s land, now behave yourselves or I’ll have to lock the whole lot of ye up. They all get long faces, roll up the tricolor, put away the bombs and go into the first pub and get drunk, with the policeman with them as well.

we worked and slaved ourselves to the bone to give you a little more than we had and now look at you, won’t bring a penny into the house. No-good loafer wasting your time with these books when there are good jobs on the railroad.”

I guess with me it has been a case pure and simple of a little frightened man looking out and seeing all the prowling animals.

then the doctors. They got me. One after the other. They come in to you in the white coat with that thing for hearing hearts and they put it right over my wallet.

How small we make our worlds. Gather them in, tighten them up into little castles of fear. Must get out into the meadows.

Now kneel down in that booth while I give ye me special yule blessing. Get down in that booth. I know you’re standing, you dirty ould cheat. Get down. For Jesus, what are you doing, ripping the phone out? Repeat after me, the Lord is my shepherd as I am one of his sheared sheep.” “The Lord is my shepherd as I am one of his sheared sheep.” “Now get over here fast and I’ll pave the way right into Mary’s womb for ye.

This is the eve.” “I guess you’re holy now.” “Not holy, but I’ve taken the eve into consideration.”

“You won’t do anything to me. You can hit and hit me and I don’t care. I don’t care what you do but you’re a bastard and will always be a bastard, always and always.”