“Boyne?!” exclaims a brogue-burred Kevin Flynn in Wimmer’s sequel to Irish Wine (1988), “Holy Mother of God, is there no killin’ ya off?” Sean Boyne, a brawling, drunken Irish painter who hung out with Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko at the Cedar Tavern, and stumbled antiheroically through Wimmer’s previous shaggy- dog story, is now so famous as Ireland’s dubious “heir to Picasso” that he’s faked his own death--just to get away from all that adulation--on the eve of his Time magazine cover story. Currently masquerading as a monk, he enjoys free stouts in his favorite pubs and happens to drop in on his funeral, where he spies Tory, his slender, fabulously beautiful daughter by his first wife, Laura. For Tory, who had been miffed that her mom wouldn’t leave Baltimore and her new “Republican fund-raiser” husband to attend the wake, this strange, manic, bearded monk on a motorcycle seems just one more colorful scallywag of the type attracted to her father—until he blurts out the truth. Before a teary, whiskey-soaked reunion can take place, Tory is kidnaped by a mystery man in a yellow jacket who knows Boyne is alive. Boyne panics and calls Laura. Laura gets mad and flies to Ireland. Dublin’s gossip-network informs Boyne that Tory is being held captive at a nursing home, where she’s being forced to eat cabbage and listen to Beatles tunes. Boyne, when he’s not wallowing in erotic reveries about his dead wife Ciara (blown up by an IRA bomb meant for Mountbatten) and trusty dog Poldy, sets off to rescue Tory and make a mess of things. Laura finds him, vanquishes the inept kidnapper, and there are tears and hugs aplenty at a press conference featuring the resurrected Boyne. Short, silly, and sentimental: Wimmer’s cartoon happily indulges stereotypes about drunken Irishmen and New York School painters.