The Mother isn’t the only source of grief for me as I attempt to sell my land at Lisnapookybawna. The neighbours are proving to be as difficult. They want to buy the place for half nothing and if they can’t get it they don’t want anyone else to have it. Poor auld Tinky Ryan’s heart is broken putting up signs, only to have them taken down as soon as they appear.

The culprits are none other than Tom Brannigan and John Joe Ryan. In my time, I’ve met many a double-talking, treacherous shleeveen, but that pair crown the lot. Myself and Tinky are convinced those two buckos are responsible for all the damage. Not one of his advertising signs has been left untouched and I’m told on good authority that at least two of them are blocking holes in John Joe Ryan’s hen run.

According to Tinky, when it comes to selling land your greatest asset is a pair of interested neighbours vying for the place. I have the worst of all worlds – two neighbours acting as one.

“We have to divide and conquer that pair,” says Tinky. “Otherwise we’re going nowhere. This kind of carry on can upset the sale of a property for years. Not too long ago I had a lovely place on the market over near Honetyne. It was the best of ground except for a few soft acres close to the Dribble. I nearly had it sold three times, but it fell through just as it was about to get across the line.”

“What happened?”

“The neighbouring farmer,” explained Tinky, “He watched every customer I brought and was cute enough to identify the more keen clients. When I wasn’t around he’d meet them on the road and chat them up, tellin’ them what lovely people they are and how he’d love to have them as neighbours.”

“And so?”

“And so, he’d continue until contracts were about to be exchanged and then he’d fire his torpedo.”

“A torpedo?”

“In fact, it was a boat he converted for use as a torpedo,” says Tinky. “As the would-be buyers arrived for their final walking of the land, he’d drive into the yard with the boat tied to the roof of his jeep. When they’d ask whether he was a fisherman or a sailor he’d answer: ‘Ah sure an auld boat is a necessity around here, when the year turns you’d need it for fodderin’ and countin’ the few cattle. That river is a hoor when it floods’.”

“How did you stop him?” I asked.

“I sent in a phantom customer,” said Tinky, “who struck up a friendship with him. Of course, he eventually arrived with his boat on the roof and spun his flood yarn to my phantom who pretended to be delighted. He told the boatman that flooding made no difference as he was goin’ to plant the place with pine trees.”

“What happened?”

“The neighbour was onto me the followin’ mornin’ and bought the place for market value. He docked the boat and sowed flowers in it.”

“What about my problem?” I asked.

“Hmm,” says Tinky. “Tell Tom Cantwell and Pa Quirke to call in to me, I have a job for them.”

“What kind of a job?” I asked.

“Never mind, just do as I say.”

That night, I arranged for Quirke and Cantwell to call into Tinky and a few days later he phoned and told me to call down. When I arrived he was sitting on the windowsill outside his funeral parlour fiddling with his mobile phone.

“Well?” I asked

“That’s a good word to describe how things are goin’,” says Tinky.

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” says he. “You’ll be glad to hear we have two interested neighbouring customers competin’ to buy your place.”

“And who might these neighbours be?” I asked

“There is one Mr John Joe Ryan and one Mr Thomas Brannigan.”

“How did you manage that?”

“All I know is that followin’ a visit from our friend Quirke, Mr Ryan phoned me and spent 20 minutes describin’ Brannigan as a double-dealer of doubtful parentage. He said he wanted to beat Brannigan’s bid of €7,000 per acre and made me an offer of €7,500 per acre. He didn’t give me an opportunity to tell him I had no such bid from anyone. No sooner had he hung up, than the said Mr Brannigan phoned and after describing Mr Ryan in most indelicate terms he said he wanted to beat his bid, whatever it was. I told him there was €7,500 per acre on board and he put €7,750 on it. It appears a certain Mr Cantwell was walking the land and alerted Brannigan to Ryan’s interest in your farm.”

“Tinky, you’re a hoor and a half,” says I.

“It takes one to know one,” says he.