Ross O’Carroll-Kelly: Honor’s like, ‘Dad, can I leave school?’ I’m there ‘I don’t see why not’

‘They talk about the Collison brothers, but those chaps have got nothing on you, Honor’

"You're a bleaten genius, Hodor," Ronan goes, while she just sits there in the kitchen, with a humongous smile on her face, pretending to be modest but at the same time drinking it in. She's so like me it's terrifying sometimes?

The old man’s there, “They talk about the Collison brothers, but those chaps have got nothing on you, Honor.”

The famous Hennessy Coghlan-O'Hara says he hasn't been this excited about a business idea since we built all those houses on a floodplain in west Dublin in the 1970s

“There’s a hundord-and-fifty-odd companies is arthur signing up,” Ronan goes, “and there’s mower interested. You’re the thalk of the Sheddle Button Bar – that right, Cheerlie?”

The old man’s there, “Absolutely! The famous Hennessy Coghlan-O’Hara says he hasn’t been this excited about a business idea since we built all those houses on a floodplain in west Dublin in the 1970s.”

Yeah, no, they're talking about Remote Workforce Monitoring, the confidential whistle-blower line, where members of the public – in return for a substantial cash incentive – can inform on people who are supposably working from home, but are really, like, not?

“Well,” Honor shrugs, “I was just looking at my so-called mom and all the things she manages to squeeze into her working day while being paid by LinkedIn. She’s taken up sea-swimming. She bakes cupcakes. She’s cleared out the attic. She’s learning Spanish.”

"I'm brushing up on my Spanish," Sorcha goes, not happy at being called out like this. "I did it for the Leaving Cert, for your information, and I very nearly did an Erasmus year in Tharagotha."

Honor's there, "She re-upholstered all of the furniture that her nanna left her. She did an online sushi-making course. She Marie Kondoed her entire wardrobe. She's reading all the Jane Austens. "

"Re-reading," Sorcha – quick as a flash – goes. "Some of them for, like, the third time?"

Honor’s there, “One day she was pissing me off and I was looking at her, thinking, I wonder what her boss would think if he knew she spent the entire morning learning to play the focking mouth organ and reading her letters from her French exchange student from when she was 15, the stupid, lazy wagon.”

"Yes," the old man goes, "I think we might work on finessing that anecdote before we let Richard Curran interview you on The Business."

Honor’s face lights up.

She's like, "Seriously? People want to, like, interview me?"

“Like Cheerlie said,” Ronan goes, “the whole wurdled’s talking about this idea of yooers.”

Honor turns to me then. She’s like, “Dad, can I leave school?”

I’m there, “I don’t see why not, Honor.”

But then Sorcha has to stick in her two yoyo’s worth.

I've already told you, Honor, that you're grounded. No extra-curricular activities for six months

"I can see why not," she goes. "Firstly, she's 14 years old and she's required by law to attend school?"

I’m there, “Sorry, Honor – the cool parent tried.”

“And secondly,” Sorcha goes, “I’ve already told you, Honor, that you’re grounded. No extra-curricular activities for six months.”

Honor's there, "She, like, disabled my Instagram account. And she took away my oboe."

"Yes," Sorcha goes, "and I've told her that I don't want her having anything to do with that so-called business."

The old man’s there, “Why on Earth not?”

“Because, Chorles, she’s obnoxious.”

“How obnoxious are we talking – on a scale of one to Owen Keegan?”

“Chorles, please don’t try to make a joke out of this. She burned down my friend’s holiday home.”

“Claire,” I go, “from Bray of all places. And her boyfriend, Garret.”

Ronan’s there, “The fedda with the Codor McGregor beard – has the faddency restaurant in Bray?”

I'm like, "Spot on, Ro. Exhausted ortichokes and easily distracted hazelnuts. No one can say he didn't have it coming. Although you told Honor you could show her how to make it look like an accident."

“Is that why you were aston me about the thrick with the woyering?” Ronan goes.

Honor’s there, “Yeah, I was going to do it like you showed me. But he kept playing the guitar–”

"Weather With You," I go. "Over and over again. And what's the one that Claire does? Focking Katie. Ridiculous."

Honor’s like, “So in the end, I just used petrol.”

The old man goes, "And that's the reason you want to stop her pursuing the most astute business venture since Noah looked up at the sky and said it was going to piss?"

“Chorles,” Sorcha tries to go, “my 14-year-old daughter is an orsonist.”

The old man’s there, “Oh, come on, that was just a bit of hijinks! I could tell you one or two stories about some of this country’s most famous captains of industry and the pranks they got up to in their student days!”

“Chorles, are you even listening to yourself? It’s going to cost us, like, 30,000 euros.”

I'm there, "Just to clarify," fixing my old man with a look, "it's going to cost you 30,000 euros. Hennessy obviously hasn't told you about the settlement yet."

The old man literally laughs.

“Thirty-thousand euros,” he goes, “is a drop in the ocean compared to what this company is worth!”

Sorcha’s there, “Chorles, I don’t care.”

Ronan goes, “We’ve had it independently vadued, Sudeka. It’s already woorth five middion eurdos.”

Whoa! That knocks Sorcha back on her kitten heels!

"Excuse me?" she goes.

I’m there, “Can I just check, Ro – the language barrier and blah, blah, blah – are you trying to say five million euros?”

“That’s exactly what he’s saying,” the old man goes. “And that’s just the stort of it! Imagine what it could be worth in two years’ time, when hybrid working is the norm!”

“We could be thalken ten toyums that amount,” Ronan goes. “Even mower.”

Sorcha is silent for a good, like, 20 seconds.

“Okay,” she finally goes, “I’m going to allow you to work on the business, Honor, given that it’s about securing your financial future.”

Honor's there, "Yeah, like I need your focking permission."

“But your Instagram account is still disabled – and you’re not getting your oboe back.”

“You’re so lame – you’re a complete and utter sap.”

“But if I see any more signs of you becoming obnoxious, Honor, then that will be it. You’ll be cut off.”

“I can’t believe you think those trousers still fit you.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

The old man goes, “Welcome to the world of the billionaire entrepreneur, Honor!”

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