“No,” Sorcha goes – and she says it just like that. I’m like, “No? No, as in?” She’s there, “No, as in no. You are not buying a racehorse.” What sh(...)

Never again. Every March, when the championship is over, I decide that’s it. I’m ringing the IRFU to ask them to move me to another part of the grou(...)

“I made a huge success of the old man’s shredding company before I unfortunately ran it into the ground. And anyway, I’m pretty much already running Hook, Lyon and Sinker as it is.”

The old man is Scooby Dubious and so is Sorcha. We’re sitting in the kitchen and I mention to them that I was thinking about setting up my own estate (...)

“Oh my God,” she goes, “the state of you. You’re not going to be able to run 10 kilometres. You’re bursting out of those shorts, by the way. You’ve an orse like a rhinoceros.”

I’m doing my stretching exercises in the orangery when I suddenly notice Honor filming me on her iPhone. I’m there, “Okay, what are you doing?” I’m a(...)

“Oh, the chap has his critics,” he goes. “Alleging this, that and the other. But I always say to people, ‘Do you know the real reason why he’s such a bloody titan when it comes to business? Look at his hair, for heaven’s sakes!

The first thing that hits me when I put the key in the old man’s front door is this, like, machinegun blast of obnoxious laughter – “haw, haw, haw,(...)

Honor spent the last four weeks of her life preparing for Heroes, a Mount Anville and Willow Pork joint stage production, in which she and a bunch of (...)

Illustration: Alan Clarke

Even after 40 years of friendship, the old man and his solicitor still greet each other with a hug – it’s a way of both expressing affection and check(...)

It’s Hennessy’s voice that I hear first. I can hear him through the front door. He’s telling a joke – a lawyer arrives at the gates of heaven –(...)