A sub’s salute to final days of ‘Irish Press’

“The bastards are trying to get in!” The former Republican prisoner raced through the caseroom and down the back stairs, cursing and puffing. His voice trailed away as we sat, nerves flickering, in the light of the night-town reporter’s TV. I lit a ciggie, convinced I wouldn’t have it finished before the Swat team of security guards swarmed into the newsroom.
“They’ll never take us alive,” someone said, drily.