Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp. "What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender. " Jamie O'Connor and me had a fight," says Paddy. " That little shit, O'Connor," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand." " That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it." " Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?" " That I did," said Paddy. "Mrs. O'Connor's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."