A prophet in his own Royland

THE CAME, they saw, he conquered. Welcome to Royland. The Keano Republic of Cork where King Roy rocks and loyal subjects queue for hours just to see how he signs his name.

And write his name he did yesterday, 'til the cows came home and not a child in the house washed.

From 2.15pm and not the scheduled 3pm, he signed and he smiled, the most submissive of sovereigns, eager only to please. Into Eason's bookstore in Cork they poured, King Keano's face tucked under their arms, chanting their hero's name.