The unsuitable role model again

My hard-drinking literary icon, Brian O'Nolan, (unconfident of his ability to support himself by his writing alone, and no doubt under pressure from his parents to 'make his way in the world') condemned himself to a lifetime of misery by taking a 'straight' job with the Irish Civil Service soon after leaving University.

In those far-off days before the advent of the Internet, there was little to divert you at your desk when work was neither interesting nor urgent, and O'Nolan and many of his colleagues would indulge in frequent and sometimes extended visits to nearby hostelries during working hours. The favourite haunt was a pub called 'The Scotch House' - still there, I believe.

O'Nolan was not by any means the only offender, but probably the worst. His masters certainly didn't approve, but because of the modest celebrity he enjoyed through his regular column in The Irish Times (published anonymously, but his identity was fairly well-known in educated circles in Dublin), he seems to have survived with only intermittent, mild censure.

On one occasion, his manager summoned him for a dressing down: "Really, Brian! I hear you were seen going into 'The Scotch House' at 11am yesterday!"

To which O'Nolan, guessing who the informant might have been, pointedly replied: "Oh no. I think you'll find that I was seen coming into 'The Scotch House'."

This anecdote, and many others, can be found in a very funny and very sad account of his life, one of the best literary biographies I've read: 'No Laughing Matter' by Anthony Cronin.