The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightdress

Tina answers the door, not a bit embarrassed about what happened in Ibiza. She goes, ‘Himself’s out in the garden, havin’ a smoke, ye know yerself,’ and I swear to God, roysh, I’d actually fight for full custody except the contamination’s gone too far. The kid’s a skobe now, always will be and I have to accept it. My, I suppose, priority now is to make sure he doesn’t disgrace the family name. The O’Carroll-Kellys have been going to Castlerock for over a hundred years and even though Ronan’s second name is actually Masters, the school knows the score and the only reason he’s there is because he’s basically my kid.

Try to imagine my total surprise, roysh, when I walk out into the gorden to find Ronan puffing away while reading a book called Rugby Made Easy. I sneak up on him and I go, ‘Finally showing an interest in the old gentlemen’s game, I see,’ and he goes, ‘Ah, Rosser, me old segosha. I’m just reading the rules here. Trying to understand what makes you tick,’ and he tips a long length of ash onto the ground, puts the cigarette in his mouth, roysh, then storts leafing through the book, looking for a particular page. He shows me a picture, which I think is Ireland against Romania. It’s two packs anyway. He’s like, ‘What the fook is that, would ye mind tellin’ me?’ and I can’t help but laugh. I’m there, ‘It’s called a scrum, Ronan,’ and he goes, ‘It’s an excuse for you lot to see each other’s arses up close.’

I’m trying not to laugh, roysh, but I end up just, like, cracking my hole. He flicks through the book again, then comes to a picture of some English player, roysh, shaping up to throw the ball into the lineout. He goes, ‘And what do you call this dude?’ and I’m there, ‘He’s a hooker,’ and Ronan’s just, like, shakes his head and goes, ‘That’s some kinky shit going on there. By the way, how’s the gaff?’

I’m there, ‘It’s Kool and the Gang. We’ve, like, moved all our stuff in. It’s just, like, unpacking now, then decorating. Sorcha has a lot of ideas for the place,’ and he goes, ‘Boot you out – that’s the best idea in the world. I said that to her,’ and I’m there, ‘Thanks for that, Ronan. Look, can we be, I don’t know, serious for a minute. I want to talk to you about school. I don’t want to sound like my old man here, but being a student at Castlerock brings with it certain, like, responsibilities…’

He laughs as he’s lighting up again. He goes, ‘I think The Rosser’s asking me not to do anything to disgrace the family name,’ and I’m there, ‘Exactly,’ and he goes, ‘You’ve some fooken Gregory, I’ll say that for you. I had a chat with oul’ Fehily. A gas character altogether. Told me some of the shit you got up to in your day. And your oul’ lad. Fehily was in his class, y’know. Ah, don’t worry, Rosser, I’m woyid,’ and I’m like, ‘Wide?’ and he goes, ‘Yeah, woyid. If you’re good at rugby, you get away wi’ moorder. You don’t tink I’m readin’ this buke because I suddenly fancy men, do ye?’ and I just go, ‘I suppose not.’

He drops his cigarette and puts it out with his foot and then he’s like, ‘I’ll give you a bell later. Got to head. I’m playin’ ball – a real man’s game.’

I’m there, ‘He’ll show. How does this shit work again?’ and he sort of, like, throws his eyes up to heaven and goes, ‘This shit just so happens to be nature’s love potion, Ross. This here is pure Andtrostenol. It’s a pheromone,’ and he looks at me and he knows he’s going to have to explain it to me again. He goes, ‘Pheromones are naturally occurring bodily chemicals which are secreted when we sweat. They are colourless and odourless and yet they have a powerful effect on human behaviour, specifically sexual attraction and drive.’

These beers are going down well. I’m like, ‘But if you can’t actually smell them…’ and Fionn throws in his two euro worth then. He’s like, ‘That’s a good question. Pheromones are scents that we don’t smell, as such. We detect them subliminally through a small receptor in the nose called the vomeronasal organ, which then sends a signal to the hypothalamus portion of the brain, stimulating sexual attraction,’ and I’m just nodding, roysh, pretending I know what the fock he’s talking about, like I used to at school.

Oisinn goes, ‘Ross, have you ever met a woman and felt an unbelievably strong chemistry,’ and I’m there, ‘Every weekend, dude.’ He’s there, ‘But that’s just horniness; I’m talking about chemistry. Look at, say, Christian and Lauren,’ and Christian suddenly brightens up. Oisinn goes, ‘We’re talking chemistry in its purest form. That’s pheromones at work.’

Faye and Amie with an ie, as in, like, Sorcha’s friends, arrive over. Faye’s had the big-time hots for JP ever since they were, like, thirteen and in Irish college together, but they’ve never actually scored each other, roysh, although they nearly did at a porty in Oisinn’s gaff one night, but JP was still technically going out with Frederika – as in, like, Russian and Byzantine Studies in UCD? – and Faye ended up drinking half a bottle of vodka and telling him that a fortune-teller told her that he was the man she was going to marry. I’ve been there once or twice myself – I mean, she looks like Lindsay Lohan – but she was only ever using me to get to JP, who she’s basically in love with.

So the two birds come over and, like, air-kiss us all. Amie with an ie, who’s looking pretty hot herself, tells Christian that they saw him and Lauren walking down Grafton Street last Sunday and they looked – OH! MY! GOD! – SO cute and Faye goes, ‘OH MY GOD, it was like, Aaawww!’ and Amie with an ie’s there, ‘No, it was more like, Oh my God!’

Oisinn is not a happy camper. He goes, ‘Faye, you’re wearing Tommy Girl,’ and she’s like, ‘Oh my God, yeah,’ and he’s there, ‘I told you not to wear anything,’ and she’s like, ‘Go out wearing no perfume? That’s like, OH! MY! GOD!’ and he goes, ‘I don’t care what it is, Faye. I told you, perfume cancels out the effects of natural pheromones. Here,’ and he hands her the bottle, roysh, and he goes, ‘Wash that stuff off before you put this on, otherwise it won’t work,’ and the two birds disappear off to the bathroom. Amie with an ie’s got the old Uggs on, roysh, and though I’ve never been an Ugger-Hugger myself, pins like hers would actually make me think again.

So JP arrives while they’re gone, roysh, and God or no God, the goy’s in cracking form. He’s actually looking well and he’s all, like, happy and shit and for the first time, roysh, I stort feeling guilty about my port in tonight. I’m there, ‘So when are you storting in, like, Maynooth?’ and he’s like, ‘Next week. Can’t wait. I just feel like I’ve been morking time, even though I’ve been reading and thinking and praying. I’m afraid patience is the one fruit of the spirit the Lord is having difficulty persuading me to eat,’ and we all just, like, nod, cracking on that we know what he’s bullshitting on about, but it is amazing, roysh, because the goy has this, like, aura.

I turn around, roysh, probably trying to justify in my own mind what we’re about to do, and I go, ‘JP, I know you’re really, like, happy and shit, but your old man’s worried about you,’ and quick as a flash, roysh, he’s there, ‘Ecclesiastes tells us, Ross, that to the man who pleases Him, God shall give wisdom, knowledge and happiness. To the sinner, He gives the task of gathering and storing up wealth, which is meaningless, a chasing after the wind,’ and there’s pretty much no answer to that.

He looks over my shoulder and he goes, ‘I don’t believe it. It’s Faye Connolly. I haven’t seen her for…’ and the dude suddenly pushes past me, roysh, and, like, throws his orms around Faye, who’s just come back from the can.

JP’s, like, looking her up and down, roysh, going, ‘So how are you? Did you finish in Portobello?’ and she’s like, ‘OH MY GOD, that’s, like, ages ago? I’m repeating the Blackhall exams. For the, like, tenth time? And what about you? How’s your mum?’ and he goes, ‘Mum’s great. I’ve got loads to tell you,’ and he slips his orm around her shoulder, roysh, and sort of, like, ushers her over into a quiet corner and Oisinn goes, ‘Easy. Money for jam.’

Christian tells me that Prince Xizor used powerful pheromones to seduce Princess Leia and I’m knocking back my pint, wondering what I should do with this information, when Amie with an ie turns around and hands Oisinn back the bottle and goes, ‘Here, it wouldn’t fit in Faye’s bag.’ Oisinn holds the bottle up, roysh, sees the massive whack gone out of it and goes, ‘Shit the bed! Don’t tell me she put that much on her?’ and Amie with an ie doesn’t answer. Oisinn’s like, ‘I told her on the phone – it’s not focking perfume,’ and Amie with an ie goes, ‘I told her that, but she was just like, “He is SO not getting away this time,” and I was like, “OH MY GOD!’”

All our heads turn in their direction. JP is, like, holding her hand and talking to her really, like, seriously. Oisinn goes, ‘If she put that much on, I can’t believe they’ve still got their clothes on. Fionn, take a walk to the old TK Maxx and see what you can hear when you’re passing by.’ Fionn heads off, roysh, and he comes back five minutes later and goes, ‘I don’t want to spoil the porty over here, but he’s telling her that he loves her but it’s a different kind of love from the love she feels for him. I heard Genesis 20:13 mentioned,’ and Oisinn goes, ‘Oh no. I knew I shouldn’t have focked around with the formula.’

Fionn goes, ‘Focked around with the formula? Oisinn, what’s in that bottle?’ and Oisinn goes, ‘Well, mostly Andtrostenol. And ethanol obviously, as a base. And… well, I threw some musk in as well,’ and Fionn’s there, ‘Musk?’ and Oisinn’s like, ‘Extracted from the sexual organs of the civet cat,’ and Fionn goes, ‘That must be why it’s not working.’

We’re all looking over, roysh, and Faye is, like, bawling her eyes out and we’re talking totally here, and JP’s, like, hugging her, roysh, trying to basically console her. They stay like that for, like, twenty minutes, roysh, then he hands her a tissue to clean up her boat, but her make-up’s all over the gaff, roysh, and she gets up and, like, runs to the jacks and Amie with an ie gets up and, like, pegs it after her and I’m looking at her orse disappearing into the distance, thinking I’d focking hop her in a New York minute.

JP arrives over and before any of us has a chance to say anything he goes, ‘He who shares my bread has lifted up his heel against me,’ and it’s obvious, roysh, that Faye has spilled the beans. None of us knows where to look. He goes, ‘You know what that’s from, don’t you? Ross?’ and I don’t know why he’s actually singling me out and I end up going, ‘I suppose the Bible,’ and he goes, ‘While he was still speaking, a crowd came up and the man who was called Judas, one of the Twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him, but Jesus said to him, “You would betray the Son of Man with a kiss?” Ross, did you put Viagra in my Baileys?’

And Oisinn looks up and goes, ‘Whoa!’ like he wishes he’d actually thought of it, then remembers himself and, like, looks down again. He’s there, ‘You’ll be happy to know I spent a night without sleep, wrestling with my conscience,’ and I’m there, ‘And did you actually—’ and he goes, ‘No, I didn’t, Ross. Let’s just say it only strengthened my faith in the Lord.’

I’m there, ‘Look, I’m sorry, dude,’ and he goes, ‘You’re forgiven, Ross. You’re all forgiven. The thirty pieces of silver my father offered must have been tempting,’ and I pluck up the courage to go, ‘It wasn’t just the money. I don’t know, bent and all as it sounds, we don’t want to lose you,’ and he sort of, like, puts his orm around my shoulder, roysh, but not in a gay way, and he goes, ‘But, Ross, I’m not lost. I’mf ound. Can you not see that?’ and I have my head down and I sort of, like, nod and I look up and the goys are sort of, like, nodding as well.

I’m there, ‘But you can’t still be our friend. Not when you become, like, a priest?’ and he goes, ‘Why not? You think priests don’t have friends? Jesus had friends,’ and Oisinn’s like, ‘But we’re not going to have to, like, go to Mass and shit, are we?’ and JP just, like, laughs and goes, ‘Look, goys, I’m sorry if I haven’t seemed myself since we got back from Israel and I’m sorry I haven’t been around. But I thought about you goys all the time while I was reading. And I found this line. It’s from the Book of Proverbs. I wrote it down and I stuck it on the mirror so I see it every morning when I shave and I remember how lucky I am. It says, A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity… a man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.’

I just automatically go, ‘Amen,’ because it seems like the roysh thing to say and Fionn’s there, ‘Don’t forget us, JP,’ and JP goes, ‘How could I?’ and the next thing, roysh, Faye and Amie with an ie come out of the can and Faye manages to hold it together until she passes where we’re sitting and then she goes, ‘I’ll always love you… Father,’ and she breaks down again and Amie with an ie has to help her out the door.

And that should have been that, roysh, except that just as I’m about to head up to the bor to get my round in, we hear what would probably have to be described as a kerfuffle coming from outside and then all this, like, screaming, and it sounds like Faye and Amie with an ie. So we all peg it for the door, roysh, reef it open and pile out onto the road and I swear to God, roysh, when I saw what was outside I nearly had a hort attack on the spot.

Every dog within a 5-mile radius of Kiely’s is outside the focking door, we’re talking Alsatians, we’re talking Dalmatians, we’re talking basset hounds, we’re talking huskies. Christian goes, ‘God’s set a plague of dogs on us for trying to tempt JP,’ but Oisinn goes, ‘Must be the musk of civet cat. She fairly slapped that stuff on.’

We’re talking two hundred dogs here, all basically looking for their bit, with their doggy lipsticks sticking out. One – which Fionn later describes as a border collie – has Faye pinned up against the wall, roysh, and is attempting something I’ve only ever seen on the internet. And the traffic in Donnybrook is at a standstill because they’re, like, everywhere, and all you can hear is dogs borking, cor horns blaring and Faye and Amie with an ie basically screaming their lungs out.

Oisinn goes, ‘I suppose we’d better rescue them,’ and as we wade through the queue, he turns around and goes, ‘It’s amazing. I haven’t seen this many dogs since…’ and at the same time, roysh, we all go, ‘… Fionn’s twenty-first,’ and out of the corner of my eye I can see that even JP’s smiling.

I’m like, ‘I’d recommend the steak,’ and she goes, ‘Thank you, Jamie Oliver. I’ll be having the Osso Bucco Milanese with pea and saffron risotto and gremolata, if it’s all the same to you,’ and I’m there, ‘Hey, it’s all Good in the Hood, Babes,’ and she shoots me this, like, total filthy and we’re talking total as well.

She asks the waiter, roysh, for a bottle of Duckhorn Vineyard’s Napa Valley Sauvignon Blanc and I have a sly look at the menu and it’s, like eighty focking sheets, but I don’t say anything. It’s, like, worth it just to sit here looking at her.

She goes, ‘How’s Ronan?’ and I swear to God, roysh, it’s the only time in the whole meal that her face actually softens. I’m there, ‘He’s drinking the Kool-Aid, Babes. He’s just storted in Castlerock,’ and she goes, ‘Tell him I said Hi.’

I’m there, ‘Haven’t seen you around. The word on the street is you’re getting married,’ and she just, like, shrugs her shoulders and goes, ‘He’s asked me. I’ve told him he’ll have to wait for my answer.’ I’m there, ‘This is a new goy? I heard you kicked the last one to touch,’ and then all of a sudden I’m like, ‘oh my God! He’s not Gick, is he?’

She’s like, ‘HELLO? He happens to be a Baron, actually,’ and I sort of, like, nod, roysh, cracking on to know what a focking Baron is. She just, like, throws her eyes up to heaven and goes, ‘He’s a member of the British peerage, Ross. He’s ninety-eighth in line to the throne. Owns half of Cambridgeshire,’ and I’m there, ‘Which makes it Kool and the Gang.’

My steak arrives. It’s got, like, raw chillies on it and I pick them off. Erika looks at me like I’m handling nuclear waste. I’m there, ‘So, he’s worth a few squids, then? Nice pile of bricks as well, I’d imagine?’ and she’s like, ‘A stately home on 500 acres. Thirty-five bedrooms. Twenty-five servants,’ and I go, ‘I wouldn’t say you picked him up in the Club of Love.’

She storts playing with her Osso Bucco – and that’s not rhyming slang – and she goes, ‘I met him at the Mid-Summer Hunt Ball. Well, they have to come over here, you see, now that they’ve banned fox-hunting in Britain. Actually, I’ve got a petition I want you to sign.’

I’m there, ‘A petition?’ because it doesn’t sound like her at all, roysh, because she used to, like, sneer at Sorcha when she used to collect signatures in College Green to try to have, like, angling declared a blood sport. I’m there, ‘What’s it about? Killing rabbits and shit?’

She goes, ‘No, it’s actually a protest at the way Tony Blair is attempting to criminalize the upper classes in Britain. The man doesn’t understand his own country’s history, tradition or culture,’ and I’m there, ‘Let me get this straight. You want me to, like, sign a petition that’s actually in favour of, like, killing foxes and shit?’ and she hands me a pen.

I’m there, ‘But Sorcha wouldn’t…’ and she goes, ‘Sorry, your wife does all your thinking for you now, does she? That’s not the Ross I used to know,’ and as she says it, roysh, I can feel a Pied à Terre boot rubbing the inside of my leg and suddenly I’ve got a focking truncheon on me that could beat Oisinn away from an all-day breakfast buffet.

I scribble my name on the petition and Erika gives me this, like, evil smile. She says she wants more wine, roysh, and she asks the waiter for a Fabrizio Bianchi Chardonnay Toscana, then she focks off to the can.

I’m sitting there for, like, ten minutes, roysh. There’s a bird at the next table giving me the serious mince pies. Nice boat, but I’d say she’s no stranger to a fish supper. Erika takes so long that I’m beginning to wonder whether she hopped out the focking window and went home.

She comes back with a big smile on her face, roysh, and I’m so focking slow that I actually think that I’m in with a shout here. The next thing, roysh, I get a focking text message from Sorcha, who thinks I’m at a Taize prayer meeting with JP tonight – I’m going to hell, I know – and it’s like, U bstrd. Cant blive u wer metin erka al alng. Cant blive u sined dat petition eder. Dont bothr comin hom. Stag in u parnts 2nite and I look up at Erika in, like, total shock.

She goes, ‘Close your mouth, Ross. You look like the chargrilled sea bass. I took a photograph of your signature and texted it to Sorcha,’ and I’m there, ‘Why would you do something like that?’ and she goes, ‘Oh, she just annoyed me in the Mandarin Lounge the other night. Made me sick to my stomach listening to Amie with an ie and Chloë and Aoife and that funny little Bray girl fawning all over her, just because she finally got that Love Kylie underwear in, like it’s a big deal or something.’

I go, ‘That’s why you rang me this morning? And that’s why you dropped all those hints about this place, so I’d, like, ask you out?’ but she’s in, like, full flow now, going, ‘I mean, I dropped in the fact that I might actually be getting married to one of the richest men in Britain and all they could talk about was that shop of hers. I was like, HELLO? Charles and Camilla might actually be coming to the wedding?’

I just, like, stand up, roysh, and I throw my napkin down on the table and I go, ‘You know what, Erika? You’re a total bitch,’ and she’s like, ‘Sit down, Ross!’ and I’m like, ‘No, I won’t. You know, Sorcha’s eight times the person you’ll ever be. No, actually, sixteen. No. No… er…’ and Erika goes, ‘Twenty-four, Ross… look, sit down. We both know I could be with you if I wanted to…’ but I just drop two hundred sheets on the table and I go, ‘Not this time… Princess. You know why you’re such a bitch? Because you’re lonely. You’re one sad and lonely girl,’ and probably for the first time in her life, roysh, she has no answer because she knows what I’m saying is basically true. I go, ‘I wouldn’t be you for all the money in the world,’ and I storm out, roysh, stopping off on the way to drain the lizard.

Oh, a bit of advice, goys, if you have to have a hit-and-miss and you happen to have been handling chillies any time in the recent past, make sure you give your hands a good wash before you whip out the old schlong, just to save yourself a visit to the Blackrock Clinic.

Quick as a flash, roysh, I go, ‘More important than birds, Fionn? Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re still a focking plastic surgeon at twenty-three,’ and it’s, like, cue high-fives all round and the dude’s left there looking like someone’s taken a focking Donald Trump in one of his Dubes, which I have on many occasions, as it happens.

He goes, ‘I’m talking about the sale of Lillie’s, goys. How would you like to own it?’ to which there’s, like, total silence. I’m like, ‘As in the nightclub?’ and Christian’s there, ‘Own it? What are you talking about?’ and Fionn goes, ‘It was withdrawn from auction yesterday. No bidder. They’re looking for four million sheets. Said they’ll probably sell it privately.’

I’m there, ‘Four million bills? Where the fock are we gonna get that kind of money?’ and Oisinn’s like, ‘Well, it’s not a problem to me anymore. I’m minted. But the rest of you are all Trustifarians, aren’t you? I’m sure you could all lay your hands on a couple of hundred Ks tomorrow,’ and Fionn goes, ‘And I’m sure we could all borrow two or three hundred more, between the banks and our parents.’

I go, ‘So that’s, like, four of us at, like, half-a-million each, which makes…’ and Fionn goes, ‘Five of us. JP’s in,’ and we all just, like, look at each other in total shock. I’m there, ‘How the fock did you swing that?’ and he goes, ‘I don’t know, to be honest. I told him about it and he just went into automatic – started talking about its prestige city-centre location, etcetera. I’m telling you, there’s still some of the estate agent left in him. Between his trust fund and savings, he has half-a-million to throw in. Oh, on condition that there’ll be no debauchery on the premises,’ and Oisinn’s like, ‘You mean he wants us to change the basic character of the place?’ and I swear to God, roysh, my hand is actually sore from high-fiving him today.

I’m there, ‘Okay, that’s five of us at, say, half-a-million each, which is…’ and Christian, who I wouldn’t have had down as a maths nerd, goes, ‘Two-and-a-half million,’ and I’m like, ‘What about the rest?’

Fionn goes, ‘You all remember One F, I take it?’ and Oisinn’s like, ‘Working class. Big hair. Writes about rugby for The Stor. Mad into Vietnam. And Cher,’ and Fionn’s there, ‘That’s him. Met him on the Dorsh last week. Seems he’d like a bite of this particular biscuit. He’s got two or three other parties interested. He wants us to join his consortium, goys. We’re talking Echo and the Moneymen.’

Christian gets all, like, misty-eyed, roysh, and he storts going, ‘Just think about it. The backbone of the old Castlerock Senior Cup team – proprietors of Lillie’s Bordello,’ and Oisinn’s there, ‘Every bird in this city is going to want to jump our basic bones,’ and I’m like, ‘For some of us, that’s not a new experience.’

Oisinn goes, ‘We are SO putting a Jacuzzi in the Library,’ and I’m like, ‘And we’re SO getting Monica Bellucci to open it,’ and there’s a big cheer, roysh, but Fionn puts a dampener on it straight away. He’s like, ‘Let’s not get carried away yet. It’s not a done deal. I suggest we adjourn this meeting and go see what kind of funds we can put together.’

So off the goys go, roysh, listing famous birds who are going to be invited to the reopening – we’re talking Estelle Warren, we’re talking Jodi Albert, we’re talking Laila Rouass, we’re talking Eliza Dushku, we’re actually talking Kate Beckinsale.

When they’re gone, I check my watch. It’s nearly ten o’clock. I flip open my mobile and I ring Knob Features. I’m there, ‘I need half-a-million sheets. I want what’s in my trust fund plus another 200K. You better think of some way of raising it. I’ll be there in ten minutes. You dickhead,’ and I hang up, roysh, and hit Foxrock.

He answers the door and straight away I’m like, ‘Well?’ and he just, like, shakes his head, roysh, and goes, ‘Haven’t had a chance to think about it, Kicker. Haven’t been able to think about very much at all. Your mother and I had the most awful experience tonight. Sally, of all people. Your mother and her have been friends for ten years. And Frank. I’m surprised at Richard. Have you five minutes to listen to your old dad?’ and I’m thinking, I suppose I could put up with it if I get what I want at the end of it.

I go, ‘This better be focking good,’ and I follow him into the sitting-room and he’s there, ‘Well, you know they had a bit of a soirée tonight, pardon the French. Wanted to thank everyone for their help with this calendar they’re bringing out. It was a lovely meal, Ross. Leek, blue cheese and rocket frittata, I believe. And drinks and so forth. Then, at the end of the night, Richard asked a few of us to stay back. Bit of a wink in his eye. Eduard and Lucy. Andrew and Grainne. The photographer chap and his wife…’

I’m there, ‘Is there much more of this shit?’ and he goes, ‘Sally puts on some music. Think it might have been Ella. I’m still traumatized. Said she and Richard liked a bit of variety, if we knew what she meant,’ and all of a sudden I cop what must have happened. I’m there, ‘Don’t tell me they’re focking swingers?’ cracking my hole laughing.

He goes, ‘And you think your old dad isn’t? I can get down – quote-unquote – with the best of them. I’m well capable of grooving, Ross, to say nothing of boogeying. That night your mother and I saw the Rocket Man and the Piano Man in Croke Field? It was after midnight when we got home.’

I’m there, ‘Get to the focking juicy bit, will you?’ and he goes, ‘Well, as I said, Sally mentioned that they liked nothing more than a bit of variety in their lives. I said, “I’m hearing you, Sally. Every man and his dog knows I’m a fan of Mr S, but I wouldn’t exactly shut off the radio if Mr Neil Diamond Esquire came on,” and everybody laughed. God, I must have sounded so stupid now that I think about it.’

I’m there, ‘Get to the point,’ and he goes, ‘Well, Richard put a bowl in the middle of the table. Naturally, I assumed Sally was going to serve some of her famous oyster rolls and quail’s egg filo cups – and not a moment too soon either. It was a long time since dinner and your mother was feeling a bit faint. She’s in bed now actually. I said, “Yes, I could use something to fill a hole.” Laughter again.’

He goes, ‘Then Eduard stands up, drops his car keys into the bowl and winks at Andrew. Grainne – she’s the ladies’ captain, for heaven’s sake – she follows suit. Well, I never felt so disgusted and sickened in all my life when it finally dawned on your mother and I what we’d inadvertently stumbled into here,’ and I’m there, ‘Which was?’ and he goes, ‘Well, obviously some kind of car-swapping party. Richard’s always had his eye on my Lexus.’

I just, like, crack up laughing in the tool’s face. He really shouldn’t be let out sometimes. He goes, ‘And to think, I might have ended up with Eduard’s Rover. The world and his mother knows the gearbox is banjaxed.’

I’m just, like, shaking my head. Never heard anything so funny in my life. I’m there, ‘Half-a-million. Get it transferred into my account first thing in the morning,’ and he’s like, ‘Absolutely,’ and as I’m leaving I just go, ‘You really are a dickhead.’

So I go out, roysh, hop in the old Beamer, and I peg it up to the school and even from the front gate, roysh, I can see hundreds of people crowded around the rugby pitch and I take it for granted that that’s where I’m headed. As I get closer, roysh, I can hear all this, like, cheering. I pork the cor and walk across and I swear to God, roysh, I actually think my eyes are playing tricks on me. The trials for the junior cup team are obviously on, roysh, and it’s, like, the Probables against the Possibles and there in the middle of the pitch, with the ball tucked under his orm, daring people to tackle him, is Ronan, wearing, of all things, the Leinster jersey I bought him.

‘Quite a sight, isn’t it, child?’ Fehily’s standing beside me. He goes, ‘I told him he was too young for the team. Those boys out there are fourteen, I told him. He went off, all disappointed with himself. The next thing I knew he charged onto the pitch, picked up the ball and, well, it’s barely been out of his hands all afternoon. I suppose I should take him off, but, well, he’s giving the rest of them something to think about.’

I stand there and watch in, like, total awe. He’s, like, riding tackles, powering through forwards who are, like, twice the size of him, hitting ball-carriers like a focking locomotive. It’s unbelievable. Of course he cops me then, roysh, and he goes, ‘Rosser!’ and I give the old thumbs-up and he sort of, like, throws his head in the direction of a ruck and goes, ‘Piece of piss, this,’ and then, like, dives into it.

All the other kids on the sideline are giving it, ‘RO-NAN! RO-NAN! RO-NAN!’ and Fehily turns to me and goes, ‘I was fortunate enough to see the great Jack Kyle in action, you know. Saw Mike Gibson many times. Saw Tony O’Reilly, Brian O’Driscoll and yourself. That’s what we’re looking at here, Ross. He’s going to be one of the greats.’

Sorcha’s there, ‘Who is it, Ross?’ and I’m practically hanging out the window trying to see when the doorbell rings again. It’s, like, some dude in a tin of fruit. I don’t know anyone who wears one. I go, ‘Must be a Jehovah’s Witness,’ and she’s there, ‘At, like – OH! MY! GOD! – midnight?’ I’m there, ‘Probably trying to get us when our defences are down. They’ve obviously heard about JP finding God and they think the rest of us are easy pickings. They’ll soon get bored ringing,’ but Sorcha goes, ‘No, Ross. I am SO not listening to that for another twenty minutes. Get rid of them,’ and she turns up the volume on the Savalas, roysh, as if to say, basically, conversation over.

So I end up having to peg it down the stairs in, it has to be said, roysh, a bit of a rage, I reef open the door and I go, ‘I love chicks, meat and beer – you’re wasting your focking time,’ but the goy just, like, looks at me, roysh, like ‘I’m the one with a screw loose. He goes, ‘Ross, it’s me,’ and I’m looking at him, roysh, thinking the voice is very familiar. The penny drops. I’m like, ‘One F?’ and he goes, ‘The one and only,’ and I’m like, ‘What’s the story with the threads? And your hair. It’s not… big anymore.’

He goes, ‘We’ve got an important meeting tonight. I’ve been talking to the present proprietor of a certain premises in Adam Court, Grafton Street, Dublin 2 – you know which one,’ and I’m like, ‘Lillie’s?’ and he goes, ‘Got it in one. I’ve managed to convince the owners that Echo and the Moneymen are serious about buying the place. We’ve been offered a viewing. As in tonight. I’ve got Fionn, Christian and Oisinn out in the jammer.’

I’m like, ‘Are you serious?’ and he goes, ‘I’m as serious as the Mylai massacre. Now, quick – I’ve got to have the suit back to Black Tie by ten o’clock in the morning.’

I shout up the stairs to Sorcha, roysh, that I’m just nipping out to buy Lillie’s and she goes, ‘Dunnes in Cornelscourt is open. They’ve lovely ones there,’ and it’s obviously some sort of, like, communication breakdown, but I leave it.

Like he said, roysh, One F had already rounded up the rest of the goys, probably from Kiely’s or the MI, judging by the hum off their breaths and the way they keep bursting into, like, choruses of, ‘One F in Foley, there’s only one F in Foley…’ and it is true, roysh, the goy is a legend, even though he went to Blackrock and is a bit, I don’t know, wacky.

We hit Lillie’s and have the usual hassle trying to get past the bouncers. There’s a bit of a debate going on as to whether Oisinn’s black Skechers are runners or shoes – they’ve their work cut out, these bouncers, having to keep up with, like, fashion and shit – but eventually this dude arrives who turns out to be the estate agent selling the gaff and he calls them off us, roysh, and as we’re heading in, Oisinn tells them that the second we buy the gaff their orses are SO sacked, and we’re talking totally here.

The dude leads us up the stairs, roysh, and Christian’s in my ear, telling me that if he has his way we’ll be totally renovating the Library to make it look like the bor in Mos Eisley where Luke Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi recruited Han Solo and Chewbacca to take them to Alderaan.

The estate agent dude goes, ‘I expect you’d like to be shown around,’ and Oisinn – totally hammered – goes, ‘Yeah, you can stort by showing us around five pints of Ken,’ and One F ends up having to, like, rescue the situation by going, ‘Tell us a bit about the property,’ and the dude launches into what I straight away recognize as, like, fluent Estate Agentese. It’s all, ‘Apex of celebrity nightlife in Ireland… named after Lillie Langtry, Victorian courtesan and mistress of the Prince of Wales… tricked out in the livery of a high-class, nineteenth-century brothel… a nightclub of national and international renown… centrally located,’ and blahdy blahdy blah.

He goes, ‘Regular patrons include Mick Jagger, Bono, Julia Roberts, Bruce Springsteen, Prince, Van Morrison, The Corrs and Tom Jones,’ and quick as a flash, roysh, I’m there, ‘Julia Roberts and The Corrs are welcome. The rest are focking borred,’ and I’m thinking I really should get Christian or one of the others to write down some of my one-liners when I’m in this kind of form.

One F plays a focking blinder, roysh. I can’t believe he’s still writing for that peasant paper. The estate agent goes, ‘I take it you would intend for the club to continue attracting the glitterati?’ and One F puts his orm around the dude’s shoulder and goes, ‘Not so much the glitterati as the clitterati. We’re talking fin de siècle decadence, Baby, coming at you like a Chinese Type 59 main battletank.’

Ten minutes later, roysh, me, Fionn and One F are sitting in a corner of the Library bor with the estate agent, listening to Paul Harrington belt out ‘Rock and Roll Kids’ on the piano, while wrapping ourselves around a few pints of Gerard Adriaan H’s finest. Christian’s up at the bor, orm-wrestling with Damien Rice, while Oisinn’s telling Robbie Keane, the Carter Twins and two dudes I know to see from ‘Fair City’ that there’s a new name going up over the door and they’re basically off the guestlist. I’m looking at this and I’m thinking, We’ve arrived.

The estate agent turns around and goes, ‘An offer of four million will guarantee it,’ and me, Fionn and One F just look at each other, roysh, smile and I go, ‘We’ll take it.’

8. Consider the Lillie’s