I've cycled every Sunday from Cork to wherever, depending on
the wind, with the same bunch of men, for about 15 years. We
are old friends at this stage, all eccentric in our own way,
and we natter about this and that en route, like cyclists
everywhere. There's one fellow called Donie, and Donie
doesn't say a lot, but when he does he's good. Last Sunday
the rest of us were discussing the amorous exploits of the
footballer who's undoubtedly the best in the world at being
famous, if nothing else, and his women, and I revealed to
the lads that he had bought is wife Victoria, who has the
greatest ratio of fame to talent in history, a 1 million
pound ring for her birthday.
Donie spoke, wearily...
"Anything for a bit o' peace"