I, too, had the opportunity to put questions to Olympic boxer Kenny Egan last week. His charming mother Maura was also in attendance, though she declined to be interviewed herself.
Gimme: Do you like Bob Dylan?
Gimme: So you don't know his song 'Who killed Davy Moore?'
Gimme: It's about this boxer who dies in the ring.
Gimme: So I thought you might know it.
Kenny: I don't.
Gimme: It's great.
Kenny: Is it?
Gimme: Oh, yeah. It's on the first bootleg album. And I just found a cool live version on youTube.
Kenny: Deadly. Do you have any other questions?
Kenny: You don't?
Gimme: No, no, I do.
Gimme: I forget.
Gimme: But you should listen to that song, it's great.
Gimme: I'll burn you a copy.
Gimme: You want to come over on Friday? We can listen to it together.
Kenny: No thanks.
Gimme: I like your biceps.
Gimme: I mean your face is a bit of a mess, but I guess that's from getting hit all the time, right?
Kenny: Are you fucking with me?
Gimme: No. Not at all. I really do like your biceps.
Kenny: I think that's it now for the interview.
Gimme: Oh. Okay, right. Sure you're not free Friday night?
Kenny: I'm sure.
Gimme: So I'll see you Friday, then?
Kenny: Ma! We're going.
Gimme: Okay. Thanks for your time.
Kenny: You're welcome.
Gimme: Friday, then? I'll drop my address over to your house.
Kenny: Don't you come anywhere near my fuckin' gaff.
Gimme: Ah. Right so. Bye so.
Kenny: See ya.
Gimme: See ya Friday!
A real gentleman, that Kenny. I'll let you know how Friday goes.