'Five minutes later there was, like, froth up the walls and two or three grand's worth of Abercrombie shredded on the floor'

The coffee wars are heating up, roysh, and Dalkey's turned into a battleground. And guess who's got to go down and sort it out

THERE WAS MURDER in Dalkey last weekend, you may or may not have heard.

A new group, calling themselves the South Dublin Caffeinistas, has been set up to support the opening of the new Storbucks on the main street, laying down a direct challenge to Sorcha's Killiney and Dalkey Rich Kids Against Capitalism, or whatever the fock they're called.

Now, there's a lot more to the story than you would have read on the front page of Monday's Irish Times.

The head of the SDC is a bird I have a bit of history with. Emily Lu is a ringer for Audrina Patridge, except with more fake tan, and is famous for having just scraped her law exams in DBS on the third re-sit, thus earning herself the nickname Barely Legal.

Without wanting to come across as, like, big-headed here, Emily was a huge fan of mine back in the day and it drove Sorcha mad that she was always, like, sniffing around, especially the night of Sorcha's debs, when I actually scored her. She's a great girl - plays all requests.

So that's, like, the back story to what happened? Saturday afternoon, roysh, they both decided to leaflet Castle Street at exactly the same time. Apparently, the tension you could have cut like, I don't know, a slice of Bucky's unbelievable blueberry swirl cheesecake, to the point where the Gords had to form a human shield between the two groups as they hurled insults at each other involving food miles and Ethiopian patent disputes.

I wasn't there myself but apparently it was obvious that it was going to kick off in a major way. And it did - in Idlewild, of all places, where Sorcha and her friends were celebrating the latest battle with a round of independent, organic, fair trade, free range, fair focks, skinny chai lattes.

That's when the Caffeinistas walked in.

The word is, it was, like, pretty civil at the stort? Sorcha complimented Emily on her leaflets but said that Storbucks had lost its ethical compass and was as much a commercial behemoth as McDonalds.

Emily pointed out that all of the company's coffee was fair trade and that after six o'clock in the evening there is literally nowhere in Dalkey for people to go to pretend to work on an iBook.

I think everyone knows where I stand but you could actually see both sides of the argument. I don't know how it went from that to a cat-fight but five minutes later there was, like, froth up the walls, used grounds on the ceiling and two or three grand's worth of Abercrombie clobber shredded on the floor.

Like I said, I didn't witness any of this. I was actually in Herbert Pork with Ro, just throwing a rugby ball around - can you believe he's actually storting secondary school in a few weeks? So anyway, roysh, my phone rings and it's the Gords in Dalkey wanting to know if I'm married to a Sorcha Lalor.

I'm there, "I suppose, technically, I still am," and he's like, "Will you come to the station - she's been in a fight."

Of course Ronan's immediately on Sorcha's side. "Fooken filth," he goes. "I want to make a statement," but I tell him it'd probably be best all round if he went home, roysh, and he eventually agrees, mentioning one or two bench warrants that are still outstanding.

When she sees me, she just, like, throws her orms around me. "Oh my God," she goes, "thank you so much for coming. I couldn't ring Mum and Dad - the shame of it, Ross." I'm there, "Well, I phoned Hennessy as well - he's on his way," and then I suddenly hold her at, like, orm's length and go, "Sorcha, this has got to basically stop."

She doesn't answer me, just looks straight over my shoulder. "Emily Lu," she goes. "Do you remember the dress she wore to the debs? She looked like a sofa."

I'm there, "Sorcha, our daughter took her first steps in Storbucks in Dundrum - have you forgotten that already?"

The mention of Honor seems to, like, snap her back to reality. "Oh and you think giant, multinational corporations should be allowed to just march in and drive small, independent operators out of business?" I actually do but I don't say that. Instead, I go, "Babes, I know what this is really about. You're angry at the moment. Cillian screwed you over and you've just, like, thrown yourself onto the nearest bandwagon. This always happens when you're on a 'guy-atus'."

She's like, "I don't want to hear it." I'm, like, looking into her eyes, trying to find that part of her that loves Buckys as much as I do. "Oh," I go, "and I suppose you don't want to hear about the new smoothie they're doing either - as in, the Vivanno?" She suddenly turns away, biting her bottom lip.

I'm like, "Orange, mango and banana . . ." "Stop," she goes.

I'm there, "Only 270 calories . . ." "Stop!" she goes.

"Sixteen grams of protein, five grams of fibre - delicious and nutritious!" She turns to me pretty shorply. She's suddenly there, "Oh my God, they've gotten to you, haven't they?" There's no point in lying to her. "They've asked me to do the official opening in Dalkey. Well, it's between me and Dorce - story of my life, huh?" There's twenty focking Ks in it as well.

"There's five Ks in it," I tell her, "half of which will be going to you and Honor, don't forget." It doesn't make it any better. She just, like, shakes her head at me and calls me Howard Shultz's this, that and the other. There's, like, no talking to her when she's like this.

I bang on the door of the cell and a Gord lets me out. Hennessy's sitting in reception, with an unlit Cohiba the size of Peter Stringer jammed between his teeth.

I'm there, "What's the Jack? Can she go?" He's like, "Go?" nearly swallowing the thing. "I've asked them to keep her for a few more hours," and then the most evil look crosses his face.

"You know what this is going to do for your claim for custody?"

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My old friends, The Cohiba Cru, go, "Finally sum1s seen sens n put a 100ft hi sign _at_ d east link stating, YOU ARE NOW ENTERING THE NORTHSIDE." Yeah, I still think "Abandon hope all ye who enter here" would have done the trick better.

Ciara in Donnybrook's there, "Wot do u think of the nu series of the hills. Spencers like such a tool. Id say hes ur hero." You bet he is - if I lived in LA, we'd be having a bromance.

John in Artane goes, "Lidl opening up where habitat used to be. Was there ever a surer sign that the economy's focked?" I know. I'd rather die of malnutrition and keep my dignity than eat Korn Flakes with a K.