cruising the other way down Meath Street. He too had missed the first checkpoint, but knew where to go now. We anxiously u-turned (slightly deflated) and found a couple messengers standing by their bikes in the shady St Patrick’s Close. We could tell that one of them was a zombie from his ripped shirt and the talcum powder on his face and hair. It was pretty clear that we were the last ones to arrive. Second wave of panic: I realised that I had already lost my manifest. Fuck it. No question of surrender now, not when we had a chance of at least getting to all the checkpoints. Staunch moron that I am I was to have my manifest found for me in a crossroads - only to lose it again before the race was over. We were each given a list by the zombie from which we had to produce one item, either a rabbit foot, a jelly snake, red ZigZag cigarette paper, or a single Monster Munch. Blunderingly, I bought a packet of Monster Munch with a sweaty handful of coppers on Thomas Street and hurriedly distributed them. At St James’s Hospital, a priest was performing exorcisms. As he ceremoniously decanted fake blood I feared for the worst, presuming that I was going have to drink it, only to be relieved when he just
www.totallydublin.ie
TOTALLY DUBLIN
53