And even after their Daddy returned to their flat and told them that the intruder was gone and wouldn't be coming back, the weans were too excited to sleep; "questions, questions, will ye's stop with the questions and let me clear my head? look, I don't know if that feller was an apparition or real - though he felt real enough to me when I was wheelin' him down the stairs and out, and I don't know any better than you, how he got in, maybe he came down the chimney like that ould bearded feller ye's send letters to before Christmas, but bejesus, if he comes back I'm goannie set the Peelers on to him, or he can osculate my btm," which took the weans aback rather, for their Daddy was no friend of the Police - as an Irishman, despite having lived in Glasgow for all but the first three years of his life, he was regularly hassled on the assumption that Connor O'Hare from the County Clare must be involved with the IRA, like every other Irishman in Scotland, which meant a lot of shoeleather being worn out by big Heilan' constables visiting the flat at any time of the day or night on some pretext or other, stopping him and other fans returning home after a Celtic game, or frisking regulars at one or other of the Irish Pubs in the town, and it had been a lot worse during the War, despite thousands of Irishmen volunteering in the British Services, because Eire was neutral, it was assumed by a lot of folks, especially the Prods in Glasgow, that the Fenians were pro-Germany; sure it was enough to turn any law-abiding citizen into a supporter of the Irish Republican Army and a United Ireland - but on this he was adamant: "that feller had a mean look about him and if any of ye's catch sight of him anywhere, run to me or yer Mammy or tae Mrs McGonnagle's shop and ask her to call the Rozzers, understand?" and they did, and they said so and then Tam, wee Snooker Tam with the long pointed nose like a snooker cue, piped up: "Da, Da, I seen him in the paper a couple of days ago, grinnin' like a monkey!" and everyone laughed and Ma asked him: "and when were ye readin' the paper, Tam?" and he grinned back: "when ah wiz eatin' ma chips fae Marzarolli's on Monday!" and with all eyes now on him, he added, "ah've still gottit, under ma bed," and not waiting for questions about why he should keep an old newspaper his chips had been wrapped in, Tam darted into The Boys' Room and came back with the crumpled sheet which he handed to his Ma, who smoothed it out and looked, shocked, at the photograph displayed prominently: despite the grease and smears of red sauce and vinegar it was truly a photograph of the Intruder, in a blue raiment, smiling towards the camera, alongside one showing a group of men sitting in the Dock; the family waited until she spoke, reading carefully: "it says these are defendants in the War Crimes Trial at Nuremberg and it gies their names, they're supposed tae be sentenced today having all been found Guilty," and she carefully checked the captions: "wee Tam's right enough, Connor, it says he's Reichsmarshall Hermann Goering! oh my God! oh Connor, he's the Intruder!"