Seán Moncrieff

Daughter Number Three is still herself, the person she always was. Just a slightly different version

Plumbers seem to exist, yet are impossible to find, simultaneously phasing in and out of existence: Schrödinger’s plumbers

I’m not sure why this word appeals to me. It might as well say here lies a pretentious smart-ass who embarrassed his family with his dying wish

When I started in journalism, I received two types of feedback: shouting or no shouting

The drivel it vomited up. Banal and cliche-ridden. No mention of Herself or the number-children. No woke virtue signalling

My friend told me he and his wife resigned from their jobs, were going travelling for a bit, and would then figure out a plan. That sounded like a plan

Seán Moncrieff: A young man approached me asking for a favour. Afterwards, he walked off, back to his world

When a loved one dies, there is a comfort in ordinariness. It’s not a time when you want any surprises or innovations

‘Not all her senses are boosted. After a lifetime of wearing glasses and contacts – and after some years of talking about it – she finally opted to get the eyes lasered’

If you time it right, you can arrive just in time for the tuneless Happy Birthday rendition, smile indulgently for two minutes and then leave

What we have is analogous to an internal refugee problem, and it will take many years and imagination to fix

There seems to be a growing willingness to prefer a more fantastical version of events over what’s evident, logical or likely

My mind felt stuffed with everything I was told and everything I’d seen, to the extent that I found it difficult to answer the simple question: what was Ukraine like?

Get on a train in Europe and you might meet the modern version of Bogart. Get on the train to Portarlington and you might see Ed Sheerin

I learned a lot from watching Daughter Number One perfrom a hilarious and absolutely filthy show