So it’s, like, Day Whatever-it-is and my period of isolation is finally over. I’m about to ring the goys to see if anyone fancies hitting The Bridge for a few bank holiday scoops when all of a sudden my phone rings and it ends up being dick features himself. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Women’s toilets? I mean, what’s next? A hockey pitch?

The weekly Ross o'Carroll-Kelly column in audio, read by Paul Howard. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Comedy

I had my nightmare again last night, the one where I have a one-night stand with Taylor Swift and then I ghost the girl and she ends up writing 15 or 16 songs about me and they’re on the radio constantly. And – yeah, no – I woke up screaming. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

‘You should be ashamed of yourselves! We’re old enough to be your parents and we’ve taken you to three sets!’

Sorcha is upset. I totally get that? But I haven’t seen her over-react like this since I ate a tin of macadamias from the hotel mini-bor on a weekend city break in Ljubljana. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

‘If you play that match, Ross, our marriage is over’

Réaltín smiles. Which might well be a first for her. Yeah, no, we’re in Baldoyle of all places, playing Thor Frimann and Lisa Murray – the reigning champions – in the semi-finals of the mixed doubles at the Leinster Padel Championships. It’s, like, one set apiece and we’re winning 5-4 in the third. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

‘You are not having a hort attack! I’m not allowing it!’

I tell Honor that I’m proud of her.
I’m there, “Obviously, I don’t mean that literally?” because all she’s actually done is spend her Paddy’s Day picking litter up off the beach in Curracloe as port of her community service. “I’m proud of the way you’re, like, owning what you did?” Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

‘I didn’t play football for Rathnew. I didn’t play football for anyone. I resent the allegation’

I’m the first to arrive. I order a pint of the obvious and I do a quick circuit of the place. There’s no one here yet, even though I said eight o’clock and it’s quarter-past already. Fr Fehily wouldn’t have put up with that. What was it he used to say? Better three hours too early than a minute too late? Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Women’s toilets? I mean, what’s next? A hockey pitch?

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