“I blame the parents,” he went on. “They ought to know what their children are up to. It’s a dereliction of responsibility Robert.”
“What do you mean?” said Seamus. “Sure some of the parents are down there pegging stones as well.”
Big Bill stared at him wondering if he was serious and then turned to speak to me. “Well if that’s the case then all I can say is there’s not much hope left for this town.”
“What’s this Martin Luther King said Master?” Jim said addressing me. “Do you remember what Martin Luther King said? About rioting I’m talking about.”
“Rioting is the voice of the unheard,” said Margie. “Is that what you’re thinking of?”
“That’s it,” said Jim. “Rioting is the voice of the unheard.”
“More like the voice of the unrared,” boomed Bill puffing out his waistcoat.
Jim’s nostrils flared. “You trying to say the boys out fighting for us weren’t rared proper?”
“I’m saying,” said Bill exaggerating weary patience, “that far too many mothers in this town are out playing Bingo at night when they should be at home watching their families. That’s what I’m saying. And by the way, they’re not fighting for me. ”
“And what about the fathers?” demanded Margie.
“The fathers?” said Bill. “I don’t know. You’d need to ask them. Although maybe I can guess.”
A line of dilated pupils eyeballed Bill. Count me out here. My eyes were on the floor.
YOU ARE READING
The Wake - Table of contents
HumorTHE YEAR is 1968 and the Swinging Sixties are still swinging - though not in Ireland. But wait! An old woman dies in a northern Irish town and her wake becomes a rendezvous for lesbians, bisexuals and political revolutionaries. And in there among t...
