Country bumpkin's queries. Dear Mr
Editor, what is a good cure for flatulence? I'd like that part. Learn a
lot teaching others. The personal note. M. A. P. Mainly all pictures.
Shapely bathers on golden strand. World's biggest balloon. Double marriage
of sisters celebrated. Two bridegrooms laughing heartily at each other.
Cuprani too, printer. More Irish than the Irish.
The machines clanked in threefour time. Thump, thump, thump.
Now if he got paralysed there and no-one knew how to stop them they'd
clank on and on the same, print it over and over and up and back.
Monkeydoodle the whole thing. Want a cool head.
--Well, get it into the evening edition, councillor, Hynes said.
Soon be calling him my lord mayor. Long John is backing him, they say.
The foreman, without answering, scribbled press on a corner of the
sheet and made a sign to a typesetter. He handed the sheet silently over
the dirty glass screen.
--Right: thanks, Hynes said moving off.
Mr Bloom stood in his way.
--If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunch, he said,
pointing backward with his thumb.
--Did you? Hynes asked.
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