Sir, – 264. He’d drink Lough Erne dry. 265. His seed, breed and generation were all soft in the head, God help us. 266. Putting dogs in windows (keeping up appearances). 267. All grá mo chroí, moryah. 268. He’s crooked as a ram’s horn. 269. He’d swear black was white before God himself. 270. He’d steal the cross of an ass’s back. 271. A sour puss on him like the day of judgment. 272. She won’t tear into the plucking. 273. Eyes at cross-purposes. – Yours, etc,
Sir, – 274. He’d do anything for money except work. 275. He’s even too lazy to get out of bed to draw the dole. (As overheard in my local pub). – Yours, etc,
Sir, – 276. He is so dense he has to remove his socks to count to 11. – Yours, etc,
Sir, – 277. The midwife said: “He has legs like two straws hanging out of a loft”. (I must have been long and gangly when I arrived in this world.) – Yours, etc,