In Godless Ireland we’re abandoned. That Godlessness isn’t about drag queens in zoos and sex education in schools. The God who’s abandoned us doesn’t see the people of Ireland wrestling like Jacob with matters so trivial.
The judge interrupted the prosecuting barrister in Ennis Courthouse. He told her he’d heard enough. He was going to adjourn the trial of Áine Ní Threinír, Aindriú de Buitléir and Eimear Walshe.
For the sake of provocation I’ll say no one wearing the Irish number 10 shirt has synthesised all that makes rugby beautiful like David Humphreys did against the All Blacks in Lansdowne Road in 2001.
¶ Last Christmas I was at a party in a hotel in Rossnowlagh chatting with a few of the boys. It had been a bad year electorally for the left.
I don’t know why this stayed with me. Three years ago and it’s halftime of Newcastle United against Manchester City at St James’s Park. I’m in the East Stand, cigarette smoked, queuing for burgers.
