What a focking conversation killer than ends up being. I genuinely don’t know how Sorcha let him anywhere near her.
I’m like, ‘Fock’s sake, Fionn. Why do you have to bring everything back to shit you’ve read in probably books? As my daughter would say, you’re yucking my yum here.’
He goes, ‘Sorry, Ross, if I’ve inadvertently educated you in some way.’
That’s poor from him. Poor.
I’m there, ‘Coláiste focking Eoin, by the way? If Father Fehily was alive today, he’d turn in his focking grave.’
I realize then that I need a slash before the second half storts, so I head for the reptile house. I’m actually standing at the urinal – my Rugby Tactics Book under my orm – when JP’s old man comes in and stands next to me. He whips it out.
‘You didn’t laugh,’ he goes.
I’m there, ‘I wasn’t actually looking. I’m trying to make sure I don’t get any splash-back on my chinos here.’
‘I meant you didn’t laugh when I was talking about the vertical bed.’
‘Yeah, no, that’s because I didn’t know what the word –’
‘You know, for a long time now, I’ve been having doubts about the boy.’
The boy is what he calls JP.
I’m like, ‘What kind of doubts are you talking about?’
He goes, ‘I’m not sure he’s the man to steer Hook, Lyon and Sinker through the next economic boom. As a matter of fact, I’m sure he’s not.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘He lacks imagination. He can’t see that the so-called housing crisis is essentially a storage problem. How do we store this amount of people in the accommodation that we’ve got? He’s also – I can’t believe I’m saying this about a son of mine – but nice.’
‘There’s no doubt he’s nice.’
‘Do you know where nice guys finish?’
‘Is it last?’
‘You’re damn right it’s last! Ever since he was a kid, he’s had a streak of human decency in him that I always thought would hold him back in business. His instinct is always to do the honourable thing. And I’ve worked too hard to make Hook, Lyon and Sinker what it is today, only to watch him sign up to the Property Services Regulatory Authority Code of Conduct.’
‘So you’re not going to retire, then?’
‘Oh, I’m retiring.’
‘So who’s going to run the estate agency when you retire?’
He smiles at me – with his dick in his hand, remember – and he goes, ‘You are.’
I end up saying nothing for the next ten seconds. I finish having a slash. I give the thing a shake, then I put it away and walk over to the sink to wash my hands.
A second or two later, JP’s old man joins me again, although he doesn’t wash his hands. He’s not that kind of man.
I’m there, ‘Are you actually serious?’
He’s like, ‘You’re damn right I’m serious.’
‘I need to maybe think about it.’
‘What’s there to think about? I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime here.’
‘I’m just thinking about what JP’s reaction would be?’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Do you know why you were the best estate agent I ever worked with, Ross?’
‘You always said it was my lack of basic human feeling.’
‘Yes, it was that. But it was also your ability to detect weakness. Now, tell me this, when you look at JP, do you see a strong character who’s capable of leading Hook, Lyon and Sinker through the next period of prosperity, however long it lasts?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Yes, you do. You just don’t want to say it.’
‘He has his hort set on taking over from you. I honestly don’t think I could do it to the dude. We played rugby together. I can’t stress that enough.’
‘What if I offered you a million a year?’
‘Sorry, I don’t think I heard you right.’
‘Oh, you heard me right. A million a year – plus the usual bonuses and commissions. What do you say?’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘So think about it. Only don’t take too long.’
So it’s, like, Monday morning and I manage to track the old man down to Hennessy’s office in Fitzwilliam Square. The two of them are sitting around chatting to this five-foot-nothing bald dude, who turns out to be a Russian called Fyodor.
‘This is my son!’ the old man goes, introducing us. ‘Remember I told you about rugby? Well, this is the chap I was talking about! Ross, this is Fyodor – he’s come over from Moscow to do some, em, work for us!’
I just shrug. I could pretend to give a fock but the truth is, I don’t.
I’m there, ‘Can I have a word with you?’
The old man goes, ‘I know what this is about, Kicker!’
I’m like, ‘Do you?’
He goes, ‘You’re looking for a news update on this putative brother or sister of yours! Well, I’m sad to tell you, Ross, that it’s bad news! It turns out the clinic were disappointed with the quality of my – inverted commas – sperm!’
‘For fock’s sake.’
‘Like Renua in the last General Election, it seems I have an extremely low count! So it looks like the entire thing is off! Your mother’s devastated, naturally enough!’
‘Well, I’m focking delighted. The two of you carrying on like dopes. Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk to you about your sperm. I came here to talk to you about something else.’
Hennessy looks at Fyodor and goes, ‘Tell the team to concentrate on the fake Facebook accounts today – and to make sure to retweet anything that Charlie posts on Twitter.’
Fyodor goes, ‘Is good, yes,’ then off he focks.
I’m there, ‘I’ve been offered a job.’
The old man goes, ‘A job? Good Lord, Ross, you haven’t worked in years!’
‘Nor have those oestrogen patches that the old dear buys on the dark web. What’s your point?’
‘My point is, why on Earth would you want a job? I provide for you, don’t I? The direct debits!’
‘JP’s old man has decided to retire and he thinks I might be the man to take over as the Managing Director of Hook, Lyon and Sinker.’
‘Well, he has been drinking rather a lot lately!’
‘Excuse me?’
‘There was an incident in Sandyford before Christmas, Ross! He drove a Renault Espace into a stationary Luas in Sandyford! The chap could have lost his licence – if he wasn’t already banned from driving for ten years!’
Then he whips out his phone, goes, ‘I’ve just remembered, I haven’t posted anything derogatory about our wonderful leader for three or four days!’ and storts suddenly tweeting.
Charles O’Carroll-Kelly √ @realCOCK – 17m
Petty Officer Enda Kenny TD will be forever remembered as the man who visited austerity on our country at the behest of Europe’s political and banking elite. People are still SUFFERING! Why wait any longer, Enda? Go now!
Reply 470 Retweet 1k Like 8.2k
I’m there, ‘You don’t think I could do it, do you?’
He goes, ‘What’s that, Kicker?’
‘You not-so-subtly changed the subject there. You don’t think I’m capable of running Hook, Lyon and Sinker.’
‘It’s not that you wouldn’t be capable, Ross! I just wonder would you be playing to your strengths?’
‘Meaning?’
‘Well, I’ve always thought of you as having a rugby brain, Ross!’
Under his breath, Hennessy goes, ‘I blame myself for dropping him on his head when he was a baby.’
The old man’s there, ‘I told you to forget about it, Hennessy. Water under the bridge.’
I’m like, ‘A rugby brain? I’ve just realized, after all these years, that’s your way of saying I’m focking stupid, isn’t it?’
‘You know, in some company,’ he tries to g
o, ‘that would be considered a compliment!’
‘Yeah, the company of other rugby players who also failed the Leaving Cert! You know something? I’m going to say yes to him. I’m going to prove you hopefully wrong.’
‘Did you hear me telling that focking prick to shut the fock up?’ Honor goes.
She’s lying on her bed, talking to her Auntie Erika over Face-Time. I love that they have so much in common.
‘I did,’ I hear Erika go. ‘He kind of deserved it, I thought. He was so rude to that waitress.’
Yeah, like she can afford to talk. Making waiting staff cry used to be her speciality – especially the men.
She goes, ‘I’m absolutely loving your channel, Honor. You’re a natural in front of the camera. I loved the one you did about Transitioning Your Wardrobe from Autumn/Winter to Spring/Summer.’
‘I’ve got, like, 47,000 subscribers.’
‘Oh my God, my niece is a social media influencer! Sorcha must be so proud!’
‘I know she’s definitely jealous?’
I’m there, ‘Say hi to Erika for me, will you?’
Honor goes, ‘Dad says hi!’
I’m like, ‘What’s she wearing?’
‘What?’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
Erika goes, ‘So when are you coming out to Australia, Honor?’
Honor’s like, ‘Oh! My God! I would love to go to Australia!’
‘Well, maybe your mom and dad will bring you out here one day. I think you’d really love Perth. It’d be great to hang out again – like we used to!’
‘I wish you were my mom.’
‘You shouldn’t say things like that, Honor.’
‘I do, though. My mom’s a jealous slut who doesn’t know how to dress and keeps having babies by different men.’
I decide to leave them to their little gossip. I look in on the boys – they’re kicking the shit out of each other, they’re fine – then I tip downstairs because I need to talk to Sorcha.
Relations between us have been, let’s just say, pretty strained since the incident on Valley’s Day, but I need to have a word with her about the whole me possibly taking over Hook, Lyon and Sinker situation.
I walk into the kitchen and her and Fionn are playing a game – so-called – with Hillary. The two of them are sitting opposite each other. Sorcha is holding Hillary and Fionn is holding up – I shit you not – a succession of basically cue cords? Each one is a different colour and Sorcha is going, ‘What is it, Hillary? Qu’est-ce que c’est? Was ist das?’
Then Fionn is like, ‘Blue. Bleu. Blau. Gorm. Blu. Azul. Lán sè.’
At least Sorcha has the decency to look embarrassed when I walk in on them. She goes, ‘It’s this book Fionn’s reading. The author says that babies are capable of retaining up to one hundred times more information in their unconscious minds than was previously believed!’
What’s wrong with pulling funny faces? Or even playing Peek-a-boo? I decide not to get involved, though. It’s their child whose life they’re destroying.
I’m there, ‘Can I have a word?’
And Sorcha goes, ‘Yeah, what’s wrong?’
‘Er, in private? It’s a family matter – meaning he’s not family. Meaning he needs to leave.’
Fionn sighs, then takes Hillary from her and says they’re going to go for a walk. When he’s focked off, I turn around to Sorcha and I go, ‘JP’s old man has asked me to take over the management of Hook, Lyon and Sinker.’
Sorcha’s like, ‘What?’
‘Yeah, no, when he retires. He thinks I’m the man to lead the company through the Celtic Phoenix.’
‘He has been drinking a lot lately. Did you hear about the incident with the Luas before Christmas?’
‘Why is that everyone’s automatic reaction?’
‘I’m not trying to rain on your parade, Ross.’
‘Jesus Christ, the man drives his cor into a stationary tram while pissed and suddenly he’s not capable of making rational decisions? No one was killed, Sorcha!’
‘You were a great estate agent. He did always say that.’
‘Yeah, no, thanks for that recognition – finally. The thing is, I’m also thinking about the future here.’
‘The future?’
‘Yeah, no, the boys will be storting Montessori soon enough – provided we can find a school willing to take them. You’re going to be going back to the presumably Seanad. It might be time for me to actually do something with my life.’
‘So have you said yes to him?’
‘No. The thing is, JP has his hort set on the job. Except his old man thinks he’s not ruthless or emotionally numb enough to do it.’
‘So what’s the problem? If Mr Conroy wants you to do it –?’
‘Rugby is the problem, Sorcha. As in, me and JP played rugby together.’
‘You can’t use rugby as an excuse for everything, Ross.’
‘Now you’re talking like a crazy person.’
‘Why don’t you just talk to JP? I’m sure he’ll understand.’
‘I’ll give him a ring now.’
It’s at that exact moment that Honor arrives down the stairs. ‘Oh my God,’ she goes, ‘I just love Erika!’
Sorcha’s there, ‘Oh my God, were you talking to your Auntie Erika? How is she?’
‘I was saying to her I’d love to do a video of just me in her walk-in wardrobe,’ she goes. ‘She has – oh my God! – amazing fashion sense,’ and I can tell she’s only saying it to piss Sorcha off.
Sorcha ends up taking the bait, of course.
She goes, ‘You’re welcome to do one in my walk-in wardrobe as well, Honor.’
‘What,’ Honor goes, ‘with all your Ugg boots and your Juicy tracksuits? You dress like Britney when she got fat.’
Sorcha – stupidly – decides to try to put her foot down. She’s there, ‘Honor, that is no way for a girl to speak to her mother – especially a girl who’s about to make her Confirmation.’
Honor laughs. She’s like, ‘Er, I’m not making my Confirmation.’
I’m there, ‘Okay, let’s pork this for another day, will we?’
Sorcha goes, ‘What do you mean, you’re not making your Confirmation?’ and then she looks at me. ‘Ross, what’s she talking about?’
I’m there, ‘I’ve no idea, Sorcha. It’s the first I’m hearing about it.’
Honor ends up totally hanging me, of course.
She’s like, ‘No, it’s not, Dad. Sister Dave told you what I said – that she could shove her Confirmation up her focking hole.’
Sorcha’s like, ‘Oh my God, is this true, Ross?’ and I decide to just come clean.
I’m there, ‘I don’t know what exact words were used, but – yeah, no – Sister Dave may have mentioned to me that Honor was considering sitting out the big day.’
She goes, ‘She’s not sitting anything out.’
‘Maybe you should just listen to her reasons first.’
‘What reason could she possibly have for not wanting to make her Confirmation?’
And Honor looks Sorcha dead in the eye and goes, ‘Er, because there’s no such thing as God?’
She delivers this line just as Sorcha’s old pair are stepping into the kitchen from outside – and from the shocked looks on their faces, it’s pretty obvious that they heard it.
‘What’s going on?’ Sorcha’s old dear asks.
Sorcha’s there, ‘Honor says she’s not making her Confirmation.’
I try to lighten the atmos. I’m like, ‘Why is it so important that she makes it? I’m genuinely wondering.’
Sorcha goes, ‘Because I was a member of the St Madeleine Sophie Barat Prayer Circle when I was in Mount Anville, Ross.’
Sorcha’s old dear goes, ‘And because Edmund and I are both Ministers of the Eucharist.’
‘Exactly,’ Sorcha goes. ‘How would it look for us if it suddenly came out that my daughter – and their actual granddaughter – was refusing to affirm the promises
that we made for her at her Baptism?’
I’m there, ‘Is that not her choice, though?’
‘Of course it’s not her choice! She’s far too young to decide that there’s no such thing as God.’
‘It’s just we had the big chat – didn’t we, Honor? – about religion and I thought a lot of the points she made were interesting. Tell her what you told me, Honor, about the fairy going to see the virgin. Listen to this one, Sorcha.’
Sorcha’s old man is fuming. His face is literally purple. Like Sorcha said, him and his wife would be regular Mass-goers. I can see why he’d hate having this shit pointed out to him. All those Sunday lie-ins he could have had. He must feel like a right mug.
He goes, ‘Are you referring to the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary?’
I’m there, ‘I don’t know what the exact chapter is called. Have you heard this story, Sorcha?’
He goes, ‘Of course she’s heard it! It’s one of keystones of the Catholic faith!’
I’m like, ‘Well, it was definitely a new one on me. A fairy going to see a virgin and telling her – what was it again, Honor?’
‘She was going to give birth to the Son of God!’ Honor goes, at the same time laughing.
I laugh as well. No choice. I’m there, ‘I mean, come on! Does it not sound ridiculous when you hear it put like that?’
‘And what about dead people coming back to life?’ Honor goes.
I’m like, ‘Whoa, gimme that again?’
‘It says in the Bible that Jesus was put to death, then three days later he was walking around with fock-all wrong with him.’
I laugh.
I’m like, ‘That’s definitely in there, is it? You’re not making that up?’
‘No,’ she goes, ‘I’m not making it up.’
Sorcha’s old man lets a roar out of him then. He’s like, ‘That’s the story of the Resurrection of Christ! And how dare you speak about it in such a flippant manner!’
Honor laughs in his face.
She’s like, ‘Okay, I’m going to have to leave you all to self-soothe,’ and she sort of, like, swans out of the kitchen with her nose in the air.
Actually, she’s getting more and more like Erika every day.
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