‘Honor has been, like, homeschooling me’
‘The pressure of being the cool parent ends up being too much’
‘Do Dry January? That’s crazy talk’
‘I want a Christmas that Tony Holohan would approve of’
‘How much moo are we talking – for, like, midnight Mass in, say, Foxrock?’
‘One of your Three Wise Men stuck his middle finger up at me’
The kitchen smells of rum. Either my old dear is over or Sorcha’s baking a Christmas cake
‘I’ve storted a rumour Matt Damon wants to build a house on Coliemore road’
‘Honor was walking around with the blond wig and Make America Great Again sweatshirt’
‘Where is Flavian Way, anyway? It actually sounds more Glenageary than Dalkey?’
‘You can’t end a relationship with someone by climbing out the window’
I can hear the old dear’s hysterical voice going, ‘Better men than you have eaten my one-pot stews!’
‘Johnny actual Sexton is at the front door’
‘Ross,’ the old man goes, ‘I’m afraid I’ve made a dreadful mistake!’
‘Oh, right – you’re one of these maskier-than-thou people’
‘I’ve never been much of a conversationalist, but I’m on fire with this woman’
‘They want us to vacate this place so they can use it as a love shack?’
‘I wouldn’t expect an animal to live in that place. And, besides, it’s rented out at the moment’
I’ve seen her drink turpentine and still be sober enough for nine holes in Foxrock
This is still the Vico Road. Pandemic or no pandemic
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