Brien, again

...he has it in his curly head that he wants to marry Liz, the Liverpudlian barmaid, despite the fact that she has a partner of some eleven years, and a daughter in school. You have got to hand it to him- he is pushing 70, I reckon, but is secure in his self-image as a wellie-boot and suit-jacket clad Wicklow stud muffin.

Tell the truth, if I were older and ovaried, I would jump on him, ride him to death, and inherit the fine bit of Wicklow farmland he has, then promptly sell it and set up a bordello catering for ancient randy sheepfarmers just like himself.

Ah well....

Have not been blipping for a while, and fast approaching the Big 300.

Any suggestions?