New York­er, on cell to fi­ancée: Hon­ey, all set here for our wed­ding, when you com­ing over? I got both of our rings, in nine-carat gold! (ap­palled si­lence in car­riage) Yeah, your fin­ger’s gonna go green and fall off or some­thing? What the hel­l’s wrong with nine-carat gold? Hey! Of course I love you more than I love my mom! Come on! What is this about?

Train
Dublin
Ire­land