AGAINST THE ODDS:The lure of an extra €750 cash up front helps a likeable Scally beat off some serious competition to become our hero's new tenant

SOME PEOPLE are natural interviewers, like Seán O’Rourke, RTÉ radio’s news anchor, who could probably uncover the innermost thoughts of a Trappist monk with his forensic interrogations.

Vinny Fitzpatrick was more of a Hastings than a Hercule Poirot and felt sure he’d make a ham-fisted job of questioning people he didn’t know, like he was about to do.

It was almost four o’clock on Sunday afternoon and Vinny was sitting in the front room of his old family home on Causeway Avenue, awaiting his first caller.

There had been three replies to the ad placed in the Clontarf Gazette and each had agreed to Vinny’s asking price of €750 rent per month for the small but perfectly-formed end terrace house, which had been unoccupied since the Khan family returned to Lahore.

With Cheltenham two months away, the rent was needed as a punting nest egg – Vinny had already identified Hurricane Fly in the Champion Hurdle and Big Zeb in the Champion Chase as two Irish-trained bankers for the Festival.

The doorbell rang and Vinny got stiffly to his feet, his 53-year-old knees creaking slightly. He flicked the dandruff from his roundy shoulders, checked the knot in his tie and opened the door where he was met by, not one, but two sets of sapphire blue eyes.

“Hello, we are here about the house, yes? I’m Irma, I believe we spoke on the phone. You must be Mister Fitzpatrick?”

Vinny took the slender hand offered, mumbled something inconsequential about the weather and invited his prospective tenants, both blonde, and no more than 20 years old he reckoned, inside.

“Take off your coats and have a look around. I’ll put the kettle on.”

A few minutes later, Vinny was sitting at the kitchen table, proffering gingernut biscuits to Irma and Helena, a pair of Krakow crackers.

“We know it will not be easy in this time but we work hard, we are honest, and there is lots that we can do,” said Irma, dunking a biscuit expertly into the tea – too little wasn’t enough, while too long was messy.

Vinny felt any owner of a half-decent city hotel, bar or night club would do worse than snap them up, but were they the right sort of folk to bed down in his former gaff, he pondered?

“Mister Fitzpatrick, may I say something please?” It was Helena, the taller, and even to Vinny’s untrained eye, the curvier.

“We like your house, and we like you but we do not have a lot of money. If you accepted €500 a month, could we offer something else to make the difference?

“Is there anything from us you would like?” she said in a husky tone that was far too suggestive for Vinny’s liking.

Vinny reddened, gulped down his tea and glanced at his watch.

“Jaypers, is that the time? Ladies, I’m afraid my next caller is due. I’ll get back to you tomorrow. Thanks for coming,” he said.

By the time of the next ding-dong, Vinny had regained his composure and banished thoughts of forbidden fruit from his, mostly pure, mind.

The caller this time was a little older than Vinny, ram-rod straight and the possessor of a luxurious pair of handle-bar whiskers – ‘you don’t see many of them these days’ thought Vinny as he showed his visitor through to the kitchen.

“Good evening,” he said, offering a granite-like handshake. “The name is Boyd, George Boyd. Ex-army colonel, recently retired. Served as UN peacekeeper in Sarajevo, Lebanon, East Timor, while my wife served half of Howth, if you understand.

“The divorce was amicable and uncomplicated, no children you see. But we have dogs, Wellington and Rommel, to which I have access for weekend walks, hence my reconnaissance of this terrain. It seems suitable,” he said stroking, his moustache.

Instantly, Vinny was in awe of “The Colonel” and couldn’t stop himself from half-raising a hand in salute.

“Right, here is the situation, Mr Fitzpatrick. I recognize your position is not as strong as before but I’m a fair man and am prepared to offer €700 a month and sign a one-year lease.

“For that, I guarantee to keep these barracks in ship-shape. There will be no visitors, except perhaps the dogs. Well?” he turned to Vinny, who was sitting timidly in his chair.

Vinny felt “The Colonel’s” eyes burning into him. He was glad he hadn’t been on the receiving end of a similar stare in East Timor, or even West Timor come to think of it.

Using the kitchen table for balance, Vinny drew himself up to his 5ft 8in height.

“Well, Colonel, I can safely say you have made a good impression sir, and I like a good impression. But before I decide, I have one more prospective tenant to see. I shall report back first thing tomorrow, sir.”

With that Vinny stiffened his back and offered a pudgy hand.

“The Colonel” nodded. “Remember, Mr Fitzpatrick. I am a man of my word. I am offering you 12 months of guaranteed income, with no baggage. Think of that overnight, if you would.”

With that, he was gone, tapping his cane noisily on the cobbles as he made his way up Causeway Avenue towards the seafront.

As a betting man, Vinny reckoned “The Colonel” was 1 to 2 on to become the new tenant with the Krakow corkers 3 to 1 against, not forgetting there was still one runner in the field.

His name was Steve Murphy but he introduced himself as “Spud” as he breezed through the front door. “Alright, wack, how are you, mate?” – he said in an accent unmistakably Scouse

With a smile Vinny found infectious, Spud told Vinny of his Irish connections – his grandparents were from Kinnegad – and how he had always intended to set up a part of his business in Ireland.

“What business is that, Spud?” asked Vinny innocently. “Oh, online stuff mostly. A bit of import, export, that sort of thing,” he replied with a disarming grin.

Over tea, Vinny found Spud was a manic Everton fan, just like him, and had tattoos to prove it, unlike Vinny.

One muscular forearm had “Sharpe” and “Sheedy” engraved on it, the other had “Southall” and “Radcliffe”, all heroes of the great team of the mid-80s. Vinny was impressed.

For a bit they joked at Liverpool’s plight – Spud labelled the return of Kenny Dalglish as “an act of desperation” – and Vinny found himself warming to the gangly, jean-clad 40-something with close-cropped hair and a ring in his ear.

After Spud had a quick scoot about the house, he returned to the kitchen with a mega-watt smile.

“Alright, Vinny, this place is perfect, end of terrace and not overlooked either, apart from that ol’ bus garage next door.

“Here’s the story. I’m happy with the terms and will sign up for a year, at least. As a gesture of thanks to a loyal Evertonian like you, I’m prepared to pay an extra €750 in cash up front, on the condition that we shake hands now. Deal or no deal?”

Instantly, Vinny assessed the situation. He was being offered extra seed money for Cheltenham and was getting an Everton fan – a likeable Scally too – as a tenant. It was, he felt, too good to turn down.

“Deal” he said smiling.

The die had been cast.

Vinny's Bismark

2ptsLay Liverpool to beat Blackpool in Premier League (Evens general, liability 2pts)

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