“Okay, can you not do that in front of my son?” I’m like, “What are you talking about?” wondering did I accidentally drop an F-bomb – as has been known to happen from time to time! “Talking about Jesus,” she goes. “My son is an agnostic.” I’m like, “Okay, what are they allergic to?”

Sorcha’s invited her friend Lauren and her kid, little Ross jnr around, to watch the Late Late Toy Show with Pang – I suppose you could call it(...)

You’re becoming hysterical, Sorcha – unnecessarily so, because it’s all in hand. As my chief whip, as well as long-suffering golf partner, I’ve told Hennessy to address the gender quota issue

The old man is sitting in his usual spot in Shanahan’s, wrapping his face around a rib eye that’s so rare I wouldn’t say the cow has even noticed y(...)

The doctor is like, “That’s what you call parenting?” And I go, “Do you have kids yourself?” “No.”“Then you’re in no position to judge. You’ll find out yourself one day. They’re a living nightmare.”

It’s, like, one more week until Pang, our eight-year-old exchange student, goes back to China. I try not to look too pleased about it for fear of h(...)

“I hope he sends you back to Blanchardstown in an ambulance.” Then he fires a plastic cup full of beer through the air and it explodes off the wire cage. “Calm down, Father!” Gorda O’Floinn goes. “It’s only a game!”

So I’m making my way to my seat in the cor pork of the Broken Orms pub when I spot a familiar face in the crowd – it’s, like, Gorda O’Floinn, as in(...)

Sorcha hasn’t touched her chicken paillards with pancetta and sage. She’s obviously got something on, like, her mind? I’m giving her 60 seconds, th(...)

I’m not a big believer in children smoking as a general rule, but in Pang’s case, it definitely helps steady the bubble in her mental spirit level.

I arrived home from Kielys in the late afternoon. I just wanted to get under the covers and sleep until it was first day of the Six Nations. I’(...)

I need a new set of wheels. I’m not saying the Lambo hasn’t been good to me, but I’m moving into that age bracket now where a cool cor storts to lo(...)

I’m there, “Er, I wonder should you be smoking, Pang?” She’s like, “Why shouldn’t I be smoking?” “I don’t know – you’re eight years old and it looks kind of weird.”

‘Okay,” Pang goes, “where the fock are we?” I should tell her that’s not how an eight-year-old exchange student should be speaking to her host family,(...)

 Gleesons of Booterstown Avenue. “This is a bloody well rugby pub!” Photograph: Cyril Byrne

Unless you’ve spent the last seven days in a diabetic coma, you’ll know that Thursday was one of, like, the most momentous days in the history of Iris(...)

I find Ronan in a slaughterhouse on Saint Morgaret’s Road, beating up the corcass of a cow, which is hanging from the ceiling by a chain. Apparently, (...)