Myles of the Same

(Illustration by David Levine)

In a last-ditch effort to secure the Nobel Prize in Literature for Flann O'Brien, I offer this anecdote from The Best of Myles. I think it proves beyond any doubt that his "death" in 1966 should pose no impediment for awarding the prize:

Sir Myles Na na gCopaleen (the da) who has been buried in the country for some months, was exhumed last week, following a dispute as to the interpretation of a clause of his will, which purported  to leave certain pictures in the National Gallery to the nation. The nation in question was not named, and lawyers held that the bequest was void for uncertainty, though it is no secret that, with Sir Myles, words like 'the nation', 'the Army', 'the services' mean only one thing. The grand old man was alive and well, and looked extremely fit as he stepped from the coffin. 'Never again,' he jested with reporters before being driven away in a closed car.

A closed car, and a closed case, I'd say.