Join our guests, artist Stephen Dedalus and opera singer Molly Bloom, for a fun, intriguing game of trivia on the subject of June 16th, 1904, with questions presented by our prestigious host. They’ll be quizzed on the thoughts and feelings of Mrs. Bloom’s husband, Leopold Bloom, the question of how to best treat a lady, and the subject of antisemitism in Ireland. Be sure to take a listen!
Transcript
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Coming to you live from the lovely Dublin town center, it’s the Evening Telegraph Radio’s only trivia and word puzzles game, Or Am I Now I?, where residents of this fine town are tested on their general knowledge about daily Dublin life. Our lovely guests this evening are Stephen Dedalus, a schoolteacher and academic working in the Dalkey region, and Molly Bloom, a famous opera singer whose work you may have heard already. Mr. Dedalus and Mrs. Bloom, welcome!
STEPHEN: Hello, yes, thank you.
MOLLY: It’s lovely to be here! Hello!
HOST: Congratulations on your newest tour, Mrs. Bloom.
MOLLY: Thank you! It’s been a pleasure to work on.
HOST: You’re quite well known in Dublin for your performances.
MOLLY: The public loves a good show! This tour has been a long time in the making, with the help of my husband and my manager, so I only have them to thank. I sure hope to find you in the audience, Mr. Dedalus.
STEPHEN: I’ll, uh, endeavor to.
HOST: Now, for our listeners, let’s explain the rules of the game. I will pose a question to either one or both of my guests, always indicating who, and they will have to answer as accurately as they can. In the middle of the show, there will be a rapid-fire question round. The theme of tonight’s show is the evening of June 16, 1904.
MOLLY: Lovely day.
STEPHEN: Truly.
HOST: As we move into the question round, I’d like to remind both of you that you are required to answer the question whether or not you know the correct response. You cannot pass it to the other player, phone a friend, or ask the audience. But remember, most importantly, this is all in good fun. Everyone ready?
MOLLY: Delightful!
STEPHEN: Indeed.
HOST: Great! Our first question is for Mrs. Bloom. Mrs. Bloom, what act did your husband Leopold Bloom make on his and Mr. Dedalus’ arrival at their destination?
MOLLY: Oh. Rather specific question, isn’t it? And don’t make me think about it, climbing over the railings like that! Well, you understand, if anyone saw him, I couldn’t—it’s a wonder he didn’t tear a big hole in his grand funeral trousers, that man, really, I do’’t even know what he.—
STEPHEN: To enter or not to enter. To knock or not to knock.
HOST: Apt answer, Mr. Dedalus, but the question was not for you.
MOLLY: I was speaking, Mr. Dedalus.
STEPHEN: Thank you. Apologies, Mrs. Bloom.
MOLLY: Oh, that’s all right.
HOST: Next question: having started the kettle, Bloom returned to the stillflowing tap. For what purpose? Mr. Dedalus?
STEPHEN: Oh, of course – to wash his hands with a tablet of… Barrington’s soap in cold water and dry them, face and hands, in a… black cloth.
HOST: A red cloth, but otherwise correct, Mr. Dedalus. And why did you decline his offer?
STEPHEN: What?
HOST: His offer to allow you to dry your face and hands?
STEPHEN: I—I don’t enjoy the feeling of water.
HOST: A hydrophobe?
STEPHEN: I am.
MOLLY: A hydrophobe?
HOST: A hydrophobe, in that he hates partial contact by immersion or total by submersion in cold water; his last bath having taken place in the month of October of the preceding year.
MOLLY: October?
STEPHEN: Moving on, if you please.
HOST: Certainly. Perhaps, Mr. Dedalus, you would have been more amicable to washing up if you had a bar of Pears’ soap.
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For you, Mrs. Bloom: which seemed to the host to be the predominant qualities of his guest?
MOLLY: Lovely, um, advertisement. Guest, as in…?
HOST: Mr. Dedalus.
MOLLY: What Poldy thought of him.
HOST: Exactly.
MOLLY: What about his hostess?
HOST: The hostess is not the subject of the question.
MOLLY: How should I know? His confidence, I suppose. Poldy needs more of that himself. It’s a charming trait in a young man.
STEPHEN: Thank you.
HOST: Correct, Mrs. Bloom. Next up, what lay under exposure on the lower, middle and upper shelves of the kitchen dresser, opened by Mr. Bloom? Mr. Dedalus?
STEPHEN: Ah, the shelves of the kitchen. I recall a distinctive array of kosher spices. Yes, and a wonderful decoration of—frames—image frames, left empty.
HOST: Incorrect, Mr. Dedalus: the lower shelf five vertical breakfast plates, six horizontal breakfast saucers on which rested inverted breakfast cups, a moustachecup, uninverted, an open shammy purse displaying coins, mostly copper, and a phial of aromatic (violet) comfits. On the middle shelf a chipped eggcup containing pepper, a drum of table salt, four conglomerated black olives in—
MOLLY: Are the contents of my kitchen worthy of being displayed on the show?
HOST: Of course, Mrs. Bloom. Moving on to a follow-up question, Mr. Dedalus. What attracted his attention lying on the apron of the dresser?
MOLLY: Oh, that, I—
HOST: The question is for Mr. Dedalus, if you please.
STEPHEN: I could distinctly recall—lying on the apron, atop the dresser, a wooden spoon…
HOST: Four polygonal fragments of two lacerated scarlet betting tickets, numbered 8 87, 88 6.
MOLLY: Well he knows already, what’s the point hiding it? If you’re accusing me of something, at least—
HOST: I’m simply asking a question, Mrs. Bloom. Moving on. How would you imagine, Mrs. Bloom, did your husband prepare a collation for a gentile?
MOLLY: Don’t interrupt me, I was speaking.
HOST: Are you the host, Mrs. Bloom, or am I? Or are you now I?
MOLLY: Epps.
HOST: Correct: he served, in two teacups, two level spoonfuls of Epps’s soluble cocoa and proceeded according to the directions for use printed on the label. Now, Mrs. Bloom, what supererogatory marks of special hospitality did the host show his guest?
MOLLY: You men are all the same, using those big useless words on me to make me stupid.
HOST: Relinquishing his symposiarchal right to the moustache cup of imitation Crown Derby presented to him by his only daughter, Millicent (Milly), he substituted a cup identical with that of his guest and served extraordinarily to his guest and, in reduced measure, to himself the viscous cream ordinarily reserved for the breakfast of his wife Marion (Molly).
MOLLY: My cream? How was it? Nice, isn’t it?
STEPHEN: I was offered, but I rarely take cream in my cocoa. It’s overwhelmingly sweet.
MOLLY: Poldy. Always being kind.
HOST: Indeed, Mrs. Bloom. Who drank more quickly?
STEPHEN: Well he started about 10 seconds before me and took smaller sips and you just said he had less cream—
MOLLY: That’s my Poldy. At least he drinks quickly.
STEPHEN: It’s a very easy question. He did.
HOST: Yes, he did. Speaking of drinking, have either of you tried Bransome’s coffee? It’s the talk of the town, but don’t take my word for it, take theirs!
ADVERTISER 1: Hello, Jones, where are you going?
ADVERTISER 2: Can’t stop, Robinson, I’m hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely’s Ltd, 85 Dame street.
ADVERTISER 1: I’ll walk with you! I was just out to grab a cup of Bransome’s coffee.
ADVERTISER 2: Bransome’s coffee? Tell me more.
ADVERTISER 1: Do you like your coffee with something of a bite in it?
ADVERTISER 2: How could I not?
ADVERTISER 1: Well, then Bransome’s is right for you!
ADVERTISER 2: And what if I didn’t like a bite?
ADVERTISER 1: That’s easy, just put a few spoonfuls of Demerara sugar in, or a dollop of Sandycove creamer.
ADVERTISER 2: Wow! I think I’ll drop by after I pick up my Kansell!
ADVERTISER 1: We’ll go together. I’ve needed a reliable inkeraser.
ADVERTISER 2: Just don’t put it in your Bransome’s coffee!
HOST: Welcome back to Or Am I Now I?, the Evening Telegraph radio’s premier quiz show! I’m here tonight with my guests, Stephen Dedalus and Molly Bloom, who are answering questions regarding the events of June 16, 1904. The next question goes to schoolteacher and artist Stephen Dedalus. What were the four separating forces between Mr. Bloom’s temporary guest and him?
STEPHEN: Easy. Name, age, race, creed.
MOLLY: And appeal of the physical form.
STEPHEN: Pardon me?
MOLLY: Nothing else to add.
HOST: What relation existed between their ages?
MOLLY: Poldy is thirty-eight, so seventeen years? You mustn’t be over twenty-one years old.
STEPHEN: Twenty-two.
MOLLY: Oh. Still in school?
STEPHEN: Teaching. Or, I was. I work as an artist now. To be precise, we are sixteen years apart. In 1936 when Bloom would be 70 and myself 54 our ages initially in the ratio of 16 to 0 would be as 17 1/2 to 13 1/2—
MOLLY: Seventeen. I was close enough. Next question.
HOST: How many previous encounters proved Stephen and Bloom’s preexisting acquaintance? Mr. Dedalus?
STEPHEN: Easy. One. I was ten years old.
HOST: Incorrect, Mr. Dedalus. The correct answer is two. The first in the lilacgarden of Matthew Dillon’s house, in 1887, in the company of your mother, with you, Mr. Dedalus, being then the age of 5 and reluctant to give your hand in salutation.
MOLLY: Do you remember, you liked me then? You and your darling little suit and curly hair like a prince, do you remember?
STEPHEN: My little suit—yes, of course—it was a lovely autumn day.
MOLLY: Lovely spring day.
STEPHEN: Lovely spring day. Yes. The next, when I was ten, at the Hotel Shelbourne—
HOST: Breslin.
STEPHEN: Hotel Breslin. Yes. Do repeat…
HOST: The second in the coffeeroom of Breslin’s hotel on a rainy Sunday in the January of 1892, in the company of your father, Mr. Dedalus, and granduncle, Stephen being then 5 years older. Now, Mrs. Bloom, did Bloom accept the invitation to dinner given then by the son and afterwards seconded by the father?
MOLLY: No, he wouldn’t’ve. But I bet he declined with excessive graciousness.
HOST: Very gratefully, with grateful appreciation, with sincere appreciative gratitude, in appreciatively grateful sincerity of regret, he declined.
STEPHEN: Yes. He declined.
HOST: Did either openly allude to their racial difference?
MOLLY: Poldy never would.
STEPHEN: Who cares about racial difference when we have all sinned, when history is just a nightmare—
HOST: The answer, of course, is neither. What, reduced to their simplest reciprocal form, were Bloom’s thoughts about Stephen’s thoughts about Bloom and about Stephen’s thoughts about Bloom’s thoughts about Stephen, Mrs. Bloom?
MOLLY: How am I supposed to guess what the both of—
HOST: Your answer, please.
MOLLY: Well Poldy must’ve assumed he knew about their, uh, racial difference, and he—well, frankly I don’t know if he even noticed.
HOST: Not quite correct – he thought that he thought that he was a Jew whereas he knew that he knew that he knew that he was not.
MOLLY: Come again?
HOST: He thought that he thought that he was a Jew whereas he knew that he knew that he knew that he was not.
STEPHEN: Quite simply, Mrs. Bloom, is that your husband thought that I thought that he was a jew, when, in fact, I knew that your husband knew that I knew that he was, in fact, not.
MOLLY: Not?
STEPHEN: A Jew.
MOLLY: Do you think that?
STEPHEN: The questions and answers must be correct.
HOST: Correct, Mr. Dedalus.
MOLLY: That wasn’t a question to you. Not a Jew?
STEPHEN: Not a Jew.
HOST: Back to the questions, Mr. Dedalus and Mrs. Bloom. Which example did Mr. Bloom adduce to induce Stephen to deduce that originality, though producing its own reward, does not invariably conduce to success?
STEPHEN: An illuminated showcart, drawn by a beast of burden, in which two smartly dressed girls were to be seated engaged in writing.
HOST: Wonderful, Mr. Dedalus. What suggested scene was then constructed by Mr. Dedalus, Mrs. Bloom?
MOLLY: The hell would I know?
STEPHEN: Solitary hotel in mountain pass. Autumn. Twilight. Fire lit. In dark corner, young man seated. Young woman enters. Restless. Solitary. She sits. She goes to window. She stands. She sits. On solitary hotel paper she writes. She thinks. She writes. She sighs. Wheels and hoofs. She hurries out. He comes from his dark corner. He seizes solitary paper. Twilight. He reads. Solitary. In sloping, upright and backhands: Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Ho…
HOST: Thank you for your answer, Mr. Dedalus, that is correct. Unfortunately, Mrs. Bloom cannot receive points for this turn due to the interruption of the other guest. Next: what suggested scene was then reconstructed by Bloom? Mr. Dedalus?
STEPHEN: Perhaps the young woman emerges from her solitary hotel room into the twilit dusk and he chases on her heels, across—
MOLLY: Queen’s Hotel you said?
HOST: He did.
MOLLY: I don’t think it’s right to have this on air, really, I—
HOST: The correct answer is: The Queen’s Hotel, Ennis, county Clare, where Rudolph Bloom (Rudolf Virag), died on the evening of the 27 June 1886, at some hour unstated, in consequence of an overdose of—
MOLLY: Stop. If you continue making a joke out of me and my husband, I will leave and smear your radio show’s name—what the hell is the name, anyway?
HOST: My apologies, Mrs. Bloom. We’ll move on to the next question.
MOLLY: How do you decide the questions? What gives you the right?
HOST: The questions simply are. For Mr. Dedalus: which domestic problem as much as, if not more than, any other frequently engaged his mind?
STEPHEN: Well, our cattle trade is quite concerning, really, because of the foot and mouth disease, also known as Koch’s preparation, which you might see in an article I helped publish, discussing the serum and virus—
HOST: Not quite, Mr. Dedalus. It was: what to do with our wives.
MOLLY: Of course, he would think that, of course, thinking he knows a great lot about everything, when all he knows is a great lot of shit and—
HOST: Pardon me, Mrs. Bloom, but this question was for Mr. Dedalus. Next: what instances of deficient mental development in his wife inclined him in favour of courses of evening instruction specially designed to render liberal instruction agreeable?
MOLLY: ‘Deficient mental development’? From him all of people, ‘deficient mental development’, pigheaded old fool, doesn’t even know what he wants to do, or —
HOST: The question was posed to Mr. Dedalus.
STEPHEN: I wouldn’t endeavor to offend my fellow guest.
HOST: If you please.
MOLLY: If you please—?
STEPHEN: Well, if you must insist, I won’t deny, they were, after all, the serpent’s prey—
MOLLY: And you think you’re perfect, do you, Mr. Dedalus, squandering money, acting like the stuckup university sort—
HOST: Pardon me, but we must return to the questions. Mr. Dedalus, had Bloom attempted to remedy this state of comparative ignorance?
MOLLY: ‘Comparative ignorance’? Comparative to whom? Why don’t you ask about his comparative ignorance to me?
STEPHEN: With women, I have read, subtlety is key.
MOLLY: Read, not experienced, eh?
STEPHEN: I have no doubt that Mr. Bloom equally comprehends the importance of politeness, Mrs. Bloom.
MOLLY: You call this politeness?
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Welcome back to Or Am I Now I?, the Evening Telegraph radio’s number one quiz show! I’m here tonight with Stephen Dedalus and Molly Bloom. Returning to our questions. How was a glyphic comparison of the phonic symbols of both languages made in substantiation of the oral comparison?
MOLLY: You think you can just ignore him slighting me?
HOST: The question was for Mr. Dedalus.
MOLLY: All right.
STEPHEN: Mr. Bloom and I utilized a book in order to write out our respective languages. His book, my pencil.
MOLLY: And what is your respective language, Mr. Dedalus?
STEPHEN: Irish—Gaelic.
MOLLY: You’re one of those, then? We ought to speak Irish in Ireland?
STEPHEN: Oh, no, no, certainly not.
MOLLY: Right. The novel couldn’t have been Sweets of Sin, could it?
STEPHEN: Is that what we were writing on?
MOLLY: Do you enjoy novels such as those, Mr. Dedalus?
STEPHEN: It would be undignified to comment.
MOLLY: Ah. I see.
STEPHEN: Really, Mrs. Bloom, I don’t—
HOST: Returning to the questions, now if you please. And if you keep digressing I am not afraid to shut this show down, and neither of you will ever see work in this town again, so please bear with me. Buck, we can edit that in post, right? Yeah, cool.
Did the host encourage his guest to chant in a modulated voice a strange legend on an allied theme, Mrs. Bloom?
STEPHEN: Now, hold on, here, let’s not—
HOST: The question is for Mrs. Bloom.
MOLLY: I imagine he did.
HOST: He did. I will now play a snippet of the very same song for your listening pleasure.
STEPHEN: Must you embarrass me in the public eye, like this—
HOST: Listen.
Little Harry Hughes and his schoolfellows all
Went out for to play ball.
And the very first ball little Harry Hughes played
He drove it o’er the jew’s garden wall.
And the very second ball little Harry Hughes played
He broke the jew’s windows all.
HOST: And how, Mrs. Bloom, did the son of Rudolph receive this first part?
MOLLY: What kind of ingrate would come into our home, drink our cocoa and my cream, and sing that? Are you a complete imbecile? And to have the nerve to sit here next to me like that—
HOST: If you could please answer the question.
STEPHEN: Really, I—
MOLLY: You, twenty two years old, think you know anything at all? Think it’s funny to sing that song there, in my house? If you think you have the right, then
STEPHEN: You have completely misunderstood my motives—this is a false representation—
HOST: The correct answer to the question is Mr. Bloom received it with unmixed feeling. In fact, smiling, a jew, he heard with pleasure and saw the unbroken kitchen window.
MOLLY: Of course he doesn’t know. That pigheaded fool.
STEPHEN: Your husband is a rather—considerate man.
MOLLY: More like he puts up with you.
HOST: Shall we hear the second part?
STEPHEN: Is this really necessary, to play it out in front of everybody—
HOST: The question was rhetorical, Mr. Dedalus. And if you don’t mind, we already spent a good deal of money securing the licensing rights to this song, so I intend to play it in its entirety.
Then out there came the jew’s daughter
And she all dressed in green.
“Come back, come back, you pretty little boy,
And play your ball again.”
I can’t come back and I won’t come back
Without my schoolfellows all.
For if my master he did hear
He’d make it a sorry ball.”
She took him by the lilywhite hand
And led him along the hall
Until she led him to a room
Where none could hear him call.
She took a penknife out of her pocket
And cut off his little head.
And now he’ll play his ball no more
For he lies among the dead.
HOST: And how did the father of Millicent receive this second part?
MOLLY: Don’t you dare bring Milly into this. Of course he was thinking about Milly. Always thinking about Milly. What about his wife? What about him? Letting in this idiot like that.
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And welcome back to Or Am I Now I, the best quiz show Dublin city has to offer! Mr. Dedalus and Mrs. Bloom will now be entering the rapid fire round. Unlike previous rounds, where certain questions were directed towards certain guests, you will both have ten seconds to answer each question as it is presented. The first one to answer correctly gets the point. Understood?
STEPHEN: It is.
HOST: Why was the host sad?
STEPHEN: Really, I didn’t think—
MOLLY: After being subjected to the extreme hostility of his guest, of course he would be.
HOST: Incorrect, both of you, and your time is up. Why was the host still?
MOLLY: He wouldn’t have known what to do. Not after hearing that from him.
STEPHEN: An object in motion stays in motion. An object still remains as such.
HOST: Indeed, Mr. Dedalus, in accordance with the law of the conservation of energy. Why was the host silent?
STEPHEN: He had nothing to say.
MOLLY: He had too much to say.
HOST: Mrs. Bloom can have half the points for this one. Thank you for your participation in the rapid fire round.
MOLLY: This show is rubbish, I should’ve known. Not worth it, to promote, what, a little tour around town? Would’ve been better off on my own.
HOST: I’ll, uh, move on. What proposal did Bloom, father of Milly, make to Stephen?
STEPHEN: To pass in repose the hours between Thursday and Friday on a cubicle in the apartment immediately above the…kitchen and immediately adjacent to the sleeping apartment of he and his wife.
MOLLY: Of course, after all of that, he still has to act like some sort of…better man. Good for him. Doesn’t think much of his wife and his daughter, does he?
STEPHEN: Your husband is very kind.
MOLLY: Yes, he is.
STEPHEN: I wasn’t thinking clearly then.
MOLLY: No, you weren’t.
HOST: What various advantages would or might have resulted from a prolongation of such an extemporisation?
MOLLY: Well he might’ve learned some basic manners for one. And a place to sleep after wasting his money and his night like that. And I suppose Poldy must be lonely.
HOST: Was the proposal of asylum accepted, Mr. Dedalus?
STEPHEN: With most promptness and absolute amicability, and as much graciousness as possible, I—
MOLLY: He declined. It’s a wonder why he thought you’d answer any other way.
HOST: What counter proposals were alternately advanced, accepted, modified, declined, restated in other terms, reaccepted, ratified, reconfirmed?
STEPHEN: To inaugurate a prearranged course of Italian instruction, place the residence of the instructed. To inaugurate a course of vocal instruction, place the residence of the instructress. To inaugurate a series of static, semistatic and peripatetic intellectual dialogues, places the residence of both speakers.
MOLLY: As if we’d want you back to our home.
HOST: Returning to the questions, Mrs. Bloom. What rendered problematic for Bloom the realisation of these mutually selfexcluding propositions?
MOLLY: The rudeness of his guest, perhaps.
HOST: Question for Mr. Dedalus.
STEPHEN: The irreparability of the past, perhaps. What’s passed is past is never come again. Tempora mutantur.
MOLLY: Don’t let him come in here speaking Italian, thinking he’s smarter than me.
STEPHEN: Latin.
MOLLY: Same thing.
HOST: Was the clown Bloom’s son?
STEPHEN: What clown?
HOST: This one is for Mrs. Bloom.
MOLLY: The clown from the circus? Did he remember that so well? No, the answer is no. Of course not.
HOST: Indeed, Mrs. Bloom, of course not. What spectacle confronted them when they, first the host, then the guest, emerged silently, doubly dark, from obscurity by a passage from the rere of the house into the penumbra of the garden?
MOLLY: The night.
STEPHEN: The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.
HOST: And Mr. Dedalus is exactly correct!
MOLLY: Rubbish!
HOST: For Mr. Dedalus: what visible luminous sign attracted Bloom’s, who attracted Stephen’s, gaze?
STEPHEN: In the second storey of Mr. Bloom’s house the light of a paraffin oil lamp with oblique shade projected on a screen of…roller blind.
MOLLY: Me? My light?
HOST: Your light.
MOLLY: How charming.
HOST: Were Mr. Bloom and Mr. Dedalus indefinitely inactive?
MOLLY: Likely not. He probably wanted to leave as soon as possible. And Poldy trying to stop him.
STEPHEN: Ah, I remember…I remember, erm – well Mr. Bloom instigated it too…
HOST: A more clear answer, please, Mr. Dedalus.
STEPHEN: I don’t know if it would be polite to—in front of a lady—
MOLLY: You mean… that smell outside—
STEPHEN: (coughs).
MOLLY: You!—
HOST: Correct! The full answer is: At Stephen’s suggestion, at Bloom’s instigation both, first Stephen, then Bloom, in penumbra urinated, their sides contiguous, their organs of micturition reciprocally rendered invisible by manual circumposition, their gazes, first Bloom’s, then Stephen’s, elevated to the projected luminous and semiluminous shadow.
MOLLY: Looking at me! And in my garden!
STEPHEN: (coughs).
HOST: How did they take leave, one of the other, in separation?
MOLLY: Not quickly enough.
STEPHEN: Standing perpendicular at the same door and on different sides of its base.
HOST: And for both of you, the final two questions, each worth double points: Alone, what did Bloom hear?
STEPHEN: The density of silence against that lukewarm night, the heaven—
MOLLY: It must’ve been about 4 in the morning! Nothing except drunks and homeless about.
HOST: Wrong—He heard the double reverberation of retreating feet on the heavenborn earth, the double vibration of a jew’s harp in the resonant lane.
MOLLY: The jew’s harp?
STEPHEN: The reverberation of feet?
HOST: And now, for our final question of the show and of the evening: alone, what did Bloom feel?
MOLLY: Tired, I’d expect.
STEPHEN: Or maybe the coarseness of the fabric of our life, speaking words we barely mean, and—
HOST: Once again, incorrect on both counts. He felt the cold of interstellar space, thousands of degrees below freezing point or the absolute zero of Fahrenheit, Centigrade or Réaumur: the incipient intimations of proximate dawn.
Well! Thank you both for coming on our show! This has been Or Am I Now I?, the Evening Telegraph radio’s number one quiz show!Be sure to catch Mrs. Bloom at her next performance, and don’t forget to pick up Stephen Dedalus’ new work, on the relations between Shakespeare’s life and plays! And, of course, don’t forget to tune in here next week, same time same place ,when we talk to Nosey Flynn and Paddy Leonard about the 1904 Gold Cup derby race! This has been Or Am I Now I?, I have been your host, come back next week!
MOLLY: That’s it, is it?
HOST: Sure is, Mrs. Bloom.
MOLLY: Pure rubbish.