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Leinster House had been burned to the ground. All that was left was a smouldering ruin and the blackened remains of an Irish flag.
The old man was trying to pin the blame on Brussels, but I knew the actual truth? Unfortunately, Sorcha was too angry with me for having sex with our daughter’s Irish teacher to listen.
But I had, like, other irons in the – pordon the pun – fire. I’d just become Head Coach of the Ireland rugby team – albeit, women.
The country might well have been focked. But very soon, we had everyone believing in fairy tales again.
And it all happened once upon a time in . . . Donnybrook
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