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A monologue from the play by Martin McDonagh
Christy tries to raise morale among his terrorist cell, who have just killed a cat.
We none of us enjoyed killing that cat, Joey-o. I was near crying meself, even as I brought me gun swinging down the fourth and fifth times, and the blood spraying out of him.
But hasn’t it worked? Haven’t we lured the Madman of Aran home to where never once will he be looking behind him for that bolt from the blue he knows is some day coming?
It won’t be so quick then he’ll be to go forming splinter groups, and knocking down fellas like poor James,
fellas who only do the community a service, and do they force anybody to buy their drugs? No.
And don’t they pay us a pound on every bag they push to go freeing Ireland for them? Isn’t it for everybody we’re out freeing Ireland?
That’s what Padraic doesn’t understand, is it isn’t only for the schoolkids and the oul fellas and the babes unborn we’re out freeing Ireland.
No. It’s for the junkies, the thieves and the drug pushers too!
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