The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightdress

So I go to meet the goys, roysh, and I have to say they’re in, like, top form as well. Christian is telling me about the time that all the Hutts were evicted from the Komonor system by the ruling warlord and Jabba the Hutt hired Dyyz Nataz to hunt him down and kill him and I’m there going, ‘Cool,’ while Oisinn is saying he can definitely smell 212 by Carolina Herrera and he keeps asking me am I absolutely positive that Hazel, as in third year Orts UCD, wasn’t in, and I just tell him to shut the fock up and get the Britneys in, which he does.

When he’s at the bor, roysh, he turns around to me and goes, ‘Have you heard from Fionn?’ and I’m like, ‘I presume he’s too scared to show his face,’ and he’s there, ‘You’ve seen it then? Pretty heavy stuff, wasn’t it? Whatever about thinking that shit, you don’t put it on a focking website. You seem cool about it,’ and I’m like, ‘He’s obviously a sicko, he’s more to be pitied than anything,’ and then Oisinn turns around and hands me and Christian our pints and goes, ‘The old 212, huh. Pure focking alchemy. Modern, innovative and radically feminine,’ and I’m like, ‘That certainly sounds like Hazel,’ and I’m, like, grinning from ear to ear, roysh, because I’ve been there loads of times.

So then, all of a sudden, roysh, I feel this, like, tap on my shoulder and I turn around and who’s standing behind me, only Jessica, as in Andrew Pike’s piece. I’m playing it cool as an Eskimo’s piss, of course, going, ‘Hey, Babes. Pull up a stool,’ and she’s like, ‘I’m not staying. I just want to make, I suppose, an eleventh-hour appeal for clemency,’ and I haven’t a focking bog what she’s on about, though I suspect she’s asking me to put Pikey back on the team. The thing is, roysh, he was never actually dropped in the first place, though I’m enjoying her squirming too much to tell her that.

I’m there, ‘I don’t think he’s the man for us,’ and then I, like, put my hand on her orm and I go, ‘I don’t think he’s the man for you either,’ and she goes totally ballistic then, giving it, ‘How dare you! You don’t know anything about me, or him,’ and I’m there, ‘I know his type,’ and she goes, ‘HELLO? I think I know him better than you, seeing as we’ve been together, like, two years?’ and I just, like, turn back to the goys and throw my eyes up to Heaven as if to say, you know, she must have a starring role in a period costume drama, roysh, but Jessica just, like, grabs me by the shoulder and spins me around and goes, ‘You think you’re SO cool, don’t you? Playing God with people’s lives,’ which are the exact same words that Andrew’s old man used, so I think it’s pretty fair to say there’s been some kind of family conference about me.

I just, like, shrug, take a whack out of my pint and go, ‘Answer me this: has he ever done the dirt on you?’ and she doesn’t answer. I’m there, ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ and she’s like, ‘That was Becky’s fault. She came on to him when he was drunk. And she SO did it to piss me off,’ and I nod really slowly, roysh, cracking on that I understand where she’s coming from, but it’s, like, mission accomplished, roysh, because I’ve planted that seed of doubt in her mind. I go, ‘Where is he tonight?’ and she’s there, ‘Having an early night. He’s getting up early tomorrow to practise his kicking. See? He’s still practising, Ross, even though you cut him from the team.’

I’m there, ‘That’s what he told you,’ and she goes, ‘No, that’d be the truth, Ross. We trust each other,’ but I can tell from her boat, roysh, that she’s not exactly convinced. She storms off then, roysh, but I know she’ll be back.

Oisinn turns around to me and goes, ‘You’ve two hopes there, Ross,’ and I’m like, ‘Meaning?’ and he’s there, ‘Meaning Bob and No. I know a goy who’s in her class in UCD. Every goy in Commerce has chanced his orm with her and ended up crashing and burning. She’s been going out with that Pikey goy for years,’ and I’m like, ‘I love a challenge, Oisinn, you know that,’ and Oisinn goes, ‘She actually looks a bit like that Beth Ostrosky.’

Half-an-hour later, roysh she’s back – surprise, sur-focking-prise – her Volume Effet Faut Cils all over her boat from where she’s been crying. She goes, ‘His mobile’s switched off. And the home phone’s been engaged for, like, thirty minutes.’ The poor focker’s probably on the internet or some shit. I’m there, ‘He’s strayed before, Jessica. What’s to say he wouldn’t do it again?’ and I just, like, slip my orm around her waist and when she lets me leave it there I know she’s, like, putty in the hand.

I give her an hour of you-deserve-so-much-better horseshit and a bit of the old you-need-a-man-not-a-boy, and an hour later, roysh, she’s kicking off her Dubes back in Room 404 of the Berkeley Court and I’m pleasuring her like she’s never been pleasured before. She knows a few tricks herself, if the truth be told, and I’d actually give her a good eight out of ten.

Of course, while we’re doing the bould thing, I’m thinking, You’re not so shit-hot now, are you Pikey? Stor of the school team you might be… and then I accidentally go – out loud – ‘… but they all still want The Master,’ and Jessica stops and goes, ‘What did you say?’ and I’m there, ‘Oh, I… em… asked you did you want me to go faster,’ and she buys it.

Of course, then the inevitable happens. Four o’clock in the morning, she gets the kind of attack of conscience that a man of my vast experience has come to expect. She actually wakes me up with her Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmy God!s. She’s like, ‘I cannot believe I did that,’ and I’m lying there going, ‘Do you mind? I’m actually trying to sleep here. Do your focking soul-searching somewhere else,’ and she gets out of the Margaret and storts throwing her threads back on and, like, sobbing to herself about how she promised Andrew that the pre-debs was a one-off and it wouldn’t, like, happen again, but now it has, which makes her a – OH! MY! GOD! – total slapper.

As she’s leaving, roysh, I turn around and go, ‘And put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door,’ and she actually does it, the sap.

My phone rings and I can see from my caller ID that it’s, like, Ronan and it’s weird, roysh, but I get this, like, feeling of excitement in my stomach, butterflies, I suppose you’d have to say. I answer and he goes, ‘Alreeet, Rosser?’ and I’m there, ‘Hey, Ronan. What’s the scéal?’ and he’s like, ‘You know yourself, don’t want to say anything to incriminate myself,’ and I laugh. He goes, ‘You’ve got that match tomorrow, right?’ and I’m there, ‘Clongowes, yeah. It’s in Donnybrook. Why don’t you come along? I can talk to your mother,’ and he goes, ‘Don’t take this up the wrong way, Rosser, but rugby’s a faggot’s game. If that’s what you’re into, it’s what you’re into. But don’t forget, I’ve a rep in this town,’ and I’m there, cracking up again, going, ‘Sorry, I forgot about your rep,’ and he’s there, ‘If some of me contacts found out I was into that kind of thing, well, you know… but I just wanted to say good luck.’

We ended up lashing Clongowes out of it, we’re talking 57–13, and we’re talking seven tries as well, four of them from Pikey, who had the game of his life. He kicked focking everything. He was unbelievable, roysh, and so was Lorcan, who got a try himself, and as we’re running circles around them, I’m looking over at Gerry Thornley, who actually tipped this shower to win it this year, and I’m, like, wondering what he’s thinking now.

The next day I find out. His report is like, Not only were Clongowes beaten yesterday, they were annihilated. It rained tries at Donnybrook. But that was only part of the story. Castlerock lit up a miserable afternoon with their fast-running game that put this writer in mind of – dare I say it – their young coach Ross O’Carroll-Kelly in his prime, and I’m just reading it, going, ‘Yes, you dare say it. All is forgiven, Gerry.’

Then he’s like, Andrew Pike was outstanding – but then, isn’t he always? It would be selling him short to describe his performance as mesmerising and, though only a couple of thousand souls braved the elements to watch yesterday’s match, many thousands more will, in years to come, claim to have been there to watch his five-star performance yesterday.

Then it’s like, Yet the most impressive aspect of the performance, from this observer’s point of view, was Castlerock’s dominance up front, with young hooker Francis Stadiem proving himself the immovable object of popular cliché, while in the lineout Aodán Hannafy jumped like his legs were spring-loaded.

I’m actually glad he, like, singled other goys out, roysh, because I didn’t want to take all the credit for the result, although I have to say, my pre-match talk was pretty amazing, we’re talking real, like, stirring stuff, if that’s the word. All the goys were there in the dressing-room with their heads down and their game-faces on, basically psyching themselves up, and I was just, like, pacing back and forth in front of them going, ‘Look at me! LOOK AT ME!’ and they all, like, looked up and I went, ‘What do those jerseys mean to you? Because they mean EVERYTHING to me. EVERYTHING Let me tell you something, I don’t actually care if we lose out there today. Clongowes, okay, they’re wankers, but they’re a bloody good team. It won’t bother me if they beat us – just as long as every one of you can still look me in the eye when you walk off that pitch in a little under two hours’ time,’ and at that point, roysh, Francis Stadiem jumped up, pointed at me and went, ‘I WILL FOCKING DIE FOR THIS MAN!’ and out they went. Clongowes didn’t know what hit them.

I pulled Pikey to one side and I was like, ‘Where’s your head at?’ and he was there, ‘In a good place. Had the chat with Jessica,’ and I’m there, ‘That’s good. How’d she take it?’ and he goes, ‘Not well, but I can’t afford to dwell on that. This is my only focus roysh now. And if you’ll excuse me, I have business to take care of,’ and he turns around and I just go, ‘YOUDA MAN, PIKEY!’ and under my breath – I’m a dickhead, I know – I go, ‘But I was the man on Monday night.’

I’m there, ‘Hey, when I told you I was going to fix him you thought it was great,’ and JP’s like, ‘I thought you were going to, like, do an Ivana in one of his Dubes or, like, use his Ralph as a jizz rag – the usual shit we do. I think you crossed the line, dude. I met Fionn today and he is NOT a happy camper,’ and I’m there, ‘You told him it was me?’ and he goes, ‘Ross, the goy’s studying for a PhD. He’s got an IQ higher than mine, yours, Oisinn’s and Christian’s put together – you think he needed to be told? Ross, you need to sort your shit out,’ and I’m there, ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ and he goes, ‘Just that – sort your shit out,’ and he hangs up on me, my so-called friend.

He comes in, but he doesn’t say anything, just plonks himself down in the ormchair in the corner, so I go back to watching Newbridge. After a few minutes I go, ‘I think I’ve spotted a weakness in their back row,’ and Fionn goes, ‘I know it was you, Ross,’ and I just stare at him, as if to say, basically, prove it, and he’s there, ‘She rang me. Your friend, Leilani. She felt bad about what she did,’ and I look at him as if to say, Whatever!

I think we’re actually going to murder this team in the lineout. He goes, ‘I went to see Sorcha tonight,’ and I’m there, ‘What did you do – shout poems up at her focking window?’ and he’s like, ‘I came here to apologize, Ross,’ and I pause the match, thinking, Grovelling, this is more like it. He goes, ‘My feelings for Sorcha are real. It’s just I should have told you years ago.’ What a tool. I go, ‘Apology accepted.’

He goes, ‘But what you did, Ross, was an unforgivable violation of my privacy,’ and I’m there, ‘I was actually trying to get you off Sorcha’s case. I wanted her to see what kind of a focking wacko you really are. Poems that don’t rhyme? What were you focking thinking of?’

He sits down on the side of the bed, takes off his glasses and rubs his face. The focker looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in a week, which he probably hasn’t. He puts his glasses back on and goes, ‘I was surprised, you know. At how well Sorcha took it. She actually said she thought it was sweet. Well, not that it ended up on the internet obviously, but the fact that I had all these feelings for her and was able to subjugate them for so long.’

I don’t believe it, roysh, the focker’s actually got me feeling sorry for him. I grab a couple of Britneys from the minibor, crack them open and hand him one. I go, ‘Did you tell her it was me who put it on the internet and shit?’ and he’s there, ‘No. I told her it was me,’ and I end up dribbling a mouthful of beer down the front of my new Ralph. I’m like, ‘Why would you do that?’ and he goes, ‘She loves you, Ross. I know how much it would devastate her to think you’d be capable of doing something like that,’ and I’m there, ‘So you took the hit?’ and he goes, ‘Not for you, Ross. I did it for Sorcha.’

He knocks back a couple of mouthfuls of beer, then he goes, ‘I haven’t said anything to Lorcan. I know he gave you my journal, but I can understand why he did it. You manipulate people, Ross. It’s all about getting what you want,’ and I just, like, shrug my shoulders, as if to say, basically, that’s the nature of the beast.

He finishes his beer and gets up to go. I put out my hand and I go, ‘No hord feelings,’ but he just, like, refuses to shake it. He goes, ‘Don’t misunderstand anything I’ve said here tonight, Ross. I will get you back for this. And that’s a promise.’

3. ’Twixt Love and Duty