One has to imagine a Myles Na Gopeleen column, already prone to shaggy dogginess, grew doggier and shaggier and dressed in the splendid, if bedraggled, robes of Rome after the Fall, and Europe awash with a million Christian sects and flavours of Pagansim, but also dragons, sphinxes, Little People, petty kingdoms, small barbarian hordes and those leftover rags of the splendours of Rome vaguely trying to hold it all together. Into this wanders Peregrine, cast-out bastard son of a king, transfromed of late into his namesake, the bird, that is, and just as suddenly and unexpectedly re-transformed and tagging along in a search for some dragon-stolen treasure. The whole thing meanders near and far and wide until it finally meanders to a conclusion, leaving everyone involved even more perplexed than when it all began. Magnificent.