‘We’ve no idea what caused the fire. And we’re sticking to that story’
Sorcha is flirting with the fireman while the focking house is on fire, but there’ll be focking war if she finds out about the fireworks
‘People in the crowd are staring at Honor like she’s a cold sore on debs night’
Ross O'Carroll-Kelly: JP is running the marathon and I’ve turned up to cheer him on, but Honor’s telling runners they’re out of their focking minds
‘The thought of booking a table for one at Shanahan’s on the Green got me through my prison sentence’
The old man is depressed about the closure of his favourite restaurant, and Hennessy is looking like a kid whose favourite toy is broken and he’s waiting for a grown-up to fix it for him
JP is staring at me like I’ve said I’m really enjoying his old dear’s OnlyFans account
The goys are up in orms that I used to send them chicken feathers anonymously in the post after lousy displays. But I was their captain
‘A threesome?’ Sorcha goes. ‘Why would you think I’d be into having a threesome?’
Yeah, no, I’ve badly misjudged this one. She’s actually talking about having another baby
‘Things have changed since you were at school, Sorcha,’ the old man goes. ‘We recognise that traditional media is our enemy now’
Hennessy, the old man and Honor are sitting around the island, looking as thick as thieves. Which is exactly what they are
The competition gets under way. The entrants are each told to remove a sock and put it in the pint glass in front of them
Oisinn is feeling old as he shows up to compere the UCD Iron Stomach Contest, but his exploits in the competition are still legendary on campus 23 years on
‘Your father is a moral eunuch, Ross. Those aren’t my words. That was a main finding of the Mahon tribunal’
Sorcha is making unfounded allegations that my old man and Honor are in cahoots over the closed-bids system for the school skiing trip
The porty invitations were returned with the words, ‘Honor O’Carroll-Kelly? Are you focking kidding me?’
Ross O’Carroll-Kelly: I’ve possibly spoiled our daughter over the years, having decided very early on to give her absolutely everything she wants out of fear of the hurtful things she might say to me
A lot of things are storting to make sense, including the violin case Leo carries around with him like a Chicago gangster
Leo’s teacher stares at me silently. She’s clearly never met a father like me before
‘Our daughter is nothing like Donald Trump, Sorcha – aport from the tan and the vengefulness’
Teenagers are a mystery. You might as well ask why it gets dork at night. Nobody knows
Sorcha knows my game. She can read me like the instructions on an airplane vomit bag
She goes, ‘Are you actually trying to talk me out of taking you back?’
It’s a miracle Sorcha’s old man has never killed me, though he did buy me a plot in Shanganagh Cemetery for my 40th
The kitchen door opens and in they come, Sorcha’s old pair, the two of them with faces as long as an M50 tailback
‘Are you aware that your children are Protestants now?’
Ross O’Carroll-Kelly: At a borbecue in Christian’s gaff the cat is thrown out of the bag ... and now I’m in deep merde
How do you become a Protestant? ‘You have to drink the blood of a Sussex chicken on Dalkey Island under a gibbous moon’
Ross O’Carroll-Kelly: The vicar-slash-reverend-slash-whatever is joking about that – but not about the baptism part