I’d be in Paris now if things had been different. I make sure to mention it as well.
I’m there, “I’d be in Paris now if things had been different,” and when I say different, I mean if my daughter hadn’t been chorged with 277 counts of criminal damage.
To look at the girl, though, you’d swear that nothing had even happened. She’s got her nose in her phone and she’s doing her usual thing of tutting and rolling her eyes every time I open my mouth.
I’m there, “If Ireland get beaten by Scotland on Saturday–” and that’s when she ends up totally losing it with me.
Sorcha is standing at the island with a boning knife in one hand and an espresso in the other, grinning at us like a serial killer
The old dear goes, ‘I don’t want my vital work on the campaign Move Funderland to the Northside to die with me’
‘I remember Past Ross thinking, you need to stort being nicer to Future Ross. He’s a genuinely good bloke’
‘Sorcha, I’m wondering is climate justice maybe a bit above Santa’s pay grade?’
She’s like, “What, Dad? What will happen?”
I’m there, “I’m just saying that questions will be asked.”
“Of who?” she goes. “Of you?”
I’m there, “I’m just making the point. It’ll be noticed that I haven’t been hanging around the team hotel – like I usually would in the week of a big match.”
“Who?” she goes, practically spitting the word at me. “Who’ll focking notice?”
I’m there, “Well, Johnny Sexton for one. And you can snigger as much as you want, Honor, I’m his hype man.”
She laughs in my face. She’s like, “His hype man?”
I’m there, “Unofficially, yeah.”
“And what does being Johnny Sexton’s hype man involve exactly?”
“Like I said, being there in the hotel lobby when the goys return from training, having a chat with him if he wants to talk, telling him he’s the man, reminding him of some of his great performances down through the years, filling his head with positive thoughts, maybe pointing out any glitches I might have spotted creeping into his kicking technique. That’s if he asks for advice. He doesn’t always.”
“What,” she goes, “and this is some vital port of his preparation, is it?”
I’m there, “That’s for him to say.”
She goes, “You’re pathetic, you know that?”
I’m there, “Hey, I’m missing the World Cup because of you, Honor. There’s nothing you can say that can’t hurt me any more than you already have.”
Of course, she takes this as a challenge.
She goes, “You failed as a rugby player because you didn’t have the talent or the temperament and now you’re living out your fantasies through someone else. You’re focking pathetic.”
Yeah, no, I’m actually on the point of tears when Sorcha suddenly steps into the livingroom.
“Oh my God,” she goes, “have you seen what they’re saying about our family on social media?”
I’m there, “I don’t know why you’re reading it, Sorcha.”
“I feel like nearly replying to some of these people,” she goes.
I’m there, “Hennessy told you not to, Sorcha.”
“Listen to this,” she goes. “The daughter of a prominent politician? Everyone knows who we’re talking about here. It’s that stuck-up, corbon-neutral-obsessed wagon Sorcha Lalor.”
I’m there, “There’s no such thing as bad publicity, Sorcha.”
“I focking hate her,” she continues on. “Yeah, me too ... A typical virtue-signalling, open-borders enviro-fascist ... Why isn’t the MSM covering this story? ... She’s so focking basic ... Yeah, basic is definitely the word ... She has a face like a nun chewing hot tar ... Laughing emoji, laughing emoji, laughing emoji. Okay, how are they allowed to name us? By identifying me, they’re identifying Honor – and she’s a minor.”
“Again,” I go, “Hennessy said that could play in our favour. When the case comes to court, he can claim that she can’t get a fair trial because of prejudicial comments online. As a matter of fact, I’m wondering are some of those trolls actually him. A nun chewing hot tar is a phrase I’ve heard him use.”
“Still no statement from her ...” she carries on reading. “This whole thing is typical of the far-left ... The arrogance of these people, telling us what we should be eating for dinner and how many times a day we should flush the toilet, while she doesn’t even know what her child is up to at night ... Typical far-right behaviour ... Why isn’t the MSM covering this story? ... Of course she knew what her child was up to. She wrote a piece in The Irish Times saying the SUV Avenger was a hero.”
I’m there, “Maybe we should go away to escape all of this. I’m just going to throw the word Paris into the mix?”
Sorcha goes, “The reason the MSM isn’t covering it is because journalists and politicians are two cheeks of the same orse ... Anyone else think that Sorcha Lalor is probably a big JK R*wling fan? ... Sorry, who even voted for her? ... Typical white-privileged behaviour ... No one voted for her. She was appointed to the Seanad, thanks to political cronyism ... That’s how Ireland works ... Fock JK R*wling ... Anyone else wondering why the MSM isn’t covering this story? ... I hate myself for saying this, especially as a woman and a definite feminist, but I would love to punch Sorcha Lalor in the face.”
I’m there, “Don’t read any more, Sorcha.”
She goes, “Her husband was an incredible rugby player back in the day ...”
I’m like, “Okay, maybe one or two more.”
“He could have been one of the greats ...” she goes.
I’m there, “Are you listening to this, Honor?”
Sorcha’s like, “My sister went out on a date with him recently. Him and the wife apparently have a totally open marriage ...”
“Okay,” I go, “he must be mixing me up with someone else. Although he’s managed to get the incredible rugby player bit right.”
“Nothing on The Irish Times and Independent dot ie websites ...” she goes. “Are you surprised? ... Still no statement from her either ... A woman I work with got off with Sorcha Lalor’s husband outside Hogan’s four or five Christmas Eves ago ... Fock JK R*wling ... It was either Hogan’s or Grogan’s ... Am I the only one wondering why the MSM isn’t covering this story? ... Might have even been Brogan’s ... These kinds of people are the reason why Ireland is in the state it’s in ... The poor kid growing up with a mother and father like that ... She should do the decent thing and resign ... She won’t, though ... I’ve checked and it was Hogan’s.”
Sorcha puts her phone down and goes, “So, this is it. The end of my political career.”
Honor’s there, “Politicial career? You’re in the focking Senate. You’re about as effectual as Johnny Sexton’s hype man there.”
It hurts. I won’t lie.
“Well, I’ve made my mind up,” Sorcha goes. “I’m going to resign my seat in Seanad Éireann.”
