human
Never be ashamed of your ancestry. An' remember, God loves the Irish--Kwaque! Go fetch 'm two bottle beer fella stop 'm along icey-chestis!--Why, the very mug of you, my lad, sticks out Irish all over it. (Michael's tail beat a tattoo.)
gpt
Now don't be blarneyin' me. 'Tis well I'm wise to your insidyous, snugglin', heart-stealin' ways. I'll have ye know my heart's impervious. 'Tis soaked too long this many a day in beer. I stole you to sell you, not to be lovin' you. I could've loved you once; but that was before me and beer was introduced. I'd sell you for twenty quid right now, coin down, if the chance offered. An' I ain't goin' to love you, so you can put that in your pipe 'n' smoke it.
human
But as I was about to say when so rudely interrupted by your 'fectionate ways--
gpt
The namin' of you, son, is not lightly to be considered. Irish, of course, but what shall it be? Paddy? Well may you shake your head. There's no smack of distinction to it. Who'd mistake you for a hod-carrier? Ballymena might do, but it sounds much like a lady, my boy. Ay, boy you are. 'Tis an idea. Boy! Let's see. Banshee Boy? Rotten. Lad of Erin!
human
I've got you, he announced solemnly.
gpt
Killeny is a lovely name, and it's Killeny Boy for you. How's that strike your honourableness?--high- soundin', dignified as a earl or . . . or a retired brewer. Many's the one of that gentry I've helped to retire in my day.