Inside the door of Marks & Spencers on Grafton Street, four ladies stopped by the jumpers for a break from Christmas shopping.
“How many have you at home now, Mary?”
“Two and a half. Andrew’s mostly gone, but he’s a bit fond of coming back for dinner and the washing.”
“God, it’s hard to shift them, isn’t it?”
“My eldest was 31 when he got married. I said to him, you’re not Jesus Christ. You don’t _have_ to live with your mammy this long.”
2 thoughts on “You’re Not Jesus Christ”
Love that Dublin humour. Brings a smile to the face
Those little captured snatches of conversations always contain the best nuggets.
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