Ross O'Carroll-Kelly
Ross O'Carroll-Kelly columns
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The fiction reviewer turned writer on her new novel, Little Vanities, writing early and often, and novels versus short stories
A message for Ross O’Carroll-Kelly on behalf of the people of Bray
We have no more desire to have his father living here than he has
‘Dude, you’re not in Ballsbridge now,’ I tell the old man. ‘This is Las Braygas!’
Chorles has shacked up with Bernie and it’s actually making me sick. He’s all gooey-eyed and she’s hanging off him like a fisherman’s jumper
I have zero interest in her in that way – is it weird that I want to spend time with this girl?
I’m there, ‘I hope this doesn’t come across as creepy –' She goes, ‘Uh-oh!’
‘There’s nothing wrong with Bray, Ross,’ the old man says. Literally. Word for word
‘That’s not what you said on September 4th, 2001,’ I remind him
‘Sorcha, I don’t need ChatGPT to tell me how to talk to my daughter and the girl she’s seeing’
We’re going on a double date with Honor and her new girlfriend, Nicola – and Sorcha is up to 90
‘Potatoes au gratin? My old dear used to say they’re for people with money but no class’
I make a big point of not touching it, mainly out of respect to my old dear’s memory, the drunken trout
Ross O’Carroll-Kelly: We’re driving through Donnybrook and Sorcha shouts ‘Stop!’
Sorcha’s in tears and looking in the window – because the place is, I’m just going to come out and say it, gone
‘Ross,’ Sorcha goes, ‘we’re not going to Dubai. We cancelled because of the war.’ I’m there, ‘What war?’ and I genuinely mean it
Ross and Sorcha are off on holiday without the kids for a week
‘We’re losing, like, 32-0. The Blackrock first years are taking us aport’
My three sons, who I had to pay to play – a grand each, seeing as you’re asking – are the worst players on the pitch
‘I’m so full of myself this morning that I’m actually making myself sick’
I’ve never been more chillaxed approaching a big game
‘There you go with the school rivalry thing again. You need to move on’
Would the Rossmeister throw away a 30-year friendship over a `stupid’ rugby match? Just watch me
‘The woman is as C as M – as my old dear used to say. Common as muck’
‘Giving my ticket to Twickenham to a woman from Bray – that’s preposterous. She wasn’t even watching the match’
‘How embarrassing is it for me to have three kids who are absolutely focking useless at rugby?’
Ross O’Carroll-Kelly: ‘I’m considered by some pretty great judges of the game to be the greatest Irish centre no one has ever heard of’
The words every south Dublin rugby parent dreads: ‘Dad, I want to join the drama society’
After a thrashing to Wesley College, Johnny – my own son – says, ‘I don’t think I want to play rugby any more’
‘I’ve never said a word about Bray that wasn’t 100% warranted’
The old man is out on a double-date with Claire’s old dear from Bray of all places, and my inheritance is flashing before my eyes
‘We’re getting rid of the cor. Right focking now’
Joy Felton goes, ‘I hope you’re planning to move that thing?’ in her famous residents association voice
‘What’s this about my old man being on the apps?’
‘He’s on Tinder. I think he might have gone out on one or two dates with Amie with an -ie’s mother as well’
‘Dude, you’re going to have to choose between science and rugby’
Rhys Reddin is my outside-centre and possibly best player and I’m including my own kids in that
‘There’s a Londis in Foxrock? I’d say my old dear is turning in her–’
As Sorcha runs through her Christmas gift returns schedule – which she’s put me in charge of – I’m storting to hyperventilate
‘We’re going to run up the Sugar Loaf carrying rocks. Work through the pain barrier!’
Christian goes ‘What are you doing?’ when he sees us out training on New Year’s Day. He’s obviously forgotten about my world-famous intensity
‘Elf went missing and Sorcha’s old man went loop-the-focking-loop. He actually rang the Gords’
The Elf has been on a world tour; selfies in Paris with the Eiffel Tower, lying on Copacabana Beach in Rio
Christmas or no Christmas, I’m frankly disappointed by Sorcha’s lack of killer instinct
‘Sorcha, you can’t be a bad person, no matter how hord you try’
The old man goes, ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t muster any enthusiasm for Christmas this year’
Sorcha and I are getting the decorations in the attic when we find an old video cassette
‘We’re going to buy a sh**load of frozen turkeys - if there’s a shortage I can sell them for €500 each’
This being the humungous Christmas morket in – believe it or not – Belfast
‘Ronan is hanging out with the absolute scum of the earth: my old man and Hennessy Coghlan-O’Hara’
Ronan has arrived with a present for Honor, and I’d like to know which gangland criminal it used to belong to
‘Dude, if you insist on coaching Blackrock, you can forget about me being your best man’
Christian, my best friend since we were basically kids, says ‘I never asked you to be my best man,’ which hurts like hell
‘It’s all right for you,’ Honor goes. ‘You can have any woman you want’
I try to dig down into my well of experiences for something to tell her. But I’ve never been dumped in my life
‘I don’t like who my son has become since he started playing rugby. He’s full of himself’
The parents are up in orms at a meeting that Fionn told me to recuse myself from, whatever that means
‘There’s no such thing as academic-sporting balance. Not in schools that are serious about being winners’
I’m there, 'I’ll turn up like Enoch literally Burke and then you’ll have a problem on your hands’
This is my son now – north Dublin’s leading wine snob
‘Tell me what you smeddle,’ he goes. ‘Liquorice – am I right? And blackbeddies?’
‘I’m not going to call you Mister anything,’ I tell the deputy principal, and the boys all stort sniggering
Slippers McRory was in my year back in the day. And to think, everyone predicted great things for him
Honor’s date for the debs is a looker. She clearly takes after her old man in that regord
Sorcha is up to 90, and still hoping Honor will decide to wear her dress from our debs in 1995
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