Last night I was besieged in Club Derrig by a clusterful of laydees with only one thing on their minds.
There they were, like a goosey gaggle huddled in a corner talking really quite seriously. All very impressive, I must have to say for myself.
They were clearly engrossed with books - which on closer inspection turned out to be all the same book. Nice little earner for an author this Literacy Class thing.
I investigated further with one of their number, a Celtic bubbly blonde who approached the bar. With a sarcastic toss of her locks, she flourished the book at me, a hefty tome going by the name of "T' Roubles".
Now, foreign exchange is, it seems to me, a good thing. But I don't want any of it in the till of Club Derrig, thank you very much. I addressed them firmly on this matter then returned to my copy of Motor Sport, having giving them the all the very best of my opinions.
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