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Emer McLysaght: Even Disneyland’s neon lawns seem more affordable than Dublin
It was a thrill to accompany a tween and her seven-year-old sister on their rite of passage at Olivia Rodrigo recently
Emer McLysaght: Irish people have developed the art of slagging down to the finest line between humour and cruelty
Emer McLysaght: I dearly wish it could hang out the clothes and defrost the freezer, but I’ll draw the line at asking it to write my next book
Emer McLysaght: This tainted emoji has tormented so many for so long. Why then, do I now find myself softening towards it?
Emer McLysaght: A glorious hospital porter once allayed my fears on the way to theatre with some daring swerves of the bed and jokes about what they might do with my tonsils
The New Yorker thinks it knows the Cork actor but, having met him twice – though we didn’t speak – I am best placed to speculate on his sleep preparations
Irish people love talking, and we’re not going to let pesky breathing get in the way
Emer McLysaght: Dublin busses regularly vanish into a Bermuda Triangle between app and reality, and nobody seems concerned
Emer McLysaght: The Welsh singer’s Babylon has the power to make you feel a bit less despondent
Emer McLysaght: I know I should care more about how I might be helping mega-companies to control and predict humans
My first Dublin vote will not be an easy one, and the weight of it will sit heavier than in 1999 when the Leaving Cert and getting a summer job trumped who I thought should become a county councillor
Emer McLysaght: Fancy Dunnes, Big Tesco, regional Supervalu, Mercadona – I love them all
Emer McLysaght: Her Swifties would fight to the death to defend her. I’d call myself Swiftie-lite
At the risk of setting feminism back to the marriage bar, there is a coolness about a woman drinking a pint of the black stuff