Piling on the agony

Maggie Rooney put the phone down on the kitchen table and looked at her sons. ‘Yer cousin Kevin fae America is coming o’er for a wee visit next month. Uncle Frank says you’ve tae show him aroon the old neighbourhood and try and get him a ticket for the game wi Rangers.’ Jim Rooney looked at his mother, ‘Whit? Tickets for that game are like gold dust!’ His bother Paul, a young man given to using rhyming slang at every available opportunity, chipped in, ‘he’s right, ma...