‘An Archangel you say. Well, have a drop of this fine whiskey then, Mr Archangel. And which one might you be anyway? Which Archangel I mean? Lucifer you say? Well now isn’t this my lucky day. At least you won’t be giving me a hard time about the drink, now will you. Not like her. Sure the woman never gives over. Do this, do that, you’re always drunk, you’re useless, blah blah blah. It never stops. Never, ever stops. On and on and on. Jaysus. Will you look what she’s got me doing now. Painting a fuckin wall violet. Violet I ask you. What kind of colour is that? Look at the painty finger marks all over me nice bottle of whiskey and the drips on the carpet. Holy Mother o' God look at the state of the place and she’ll be back any time now. Bye the way, where’s your wings? Archangels should have wings, shouldn’t they. You don’t wear them up here? Now there’s a thing. Maybe she can take a needle and stitch you a new pair when she gets home. And then maybe you can frighten the b'Jaysus out of her and she’ll go away forever. Now there’s a fine idea. Are you sure you won’t have a drop of this? I love it. Always seem to meet new friends when I have a drink.’