I ask Ronan if he’s sure about this.
He goes, “Will you relax, Rosser? Barney does this all the toyum.”
Borney being his mate in the Gords who I’m paying five hundred yoyos to – yeah, no – scare my children straight.
I’m there, “I’m just wondering is it a bit –”
‘When they see the copper, the triplets think it’s about them gobbing on the cauliflower and turmeric latte crowd - which I’m not even sure is a crime’
‘We’ve no idea what caused the fire. And we’re sticking to that story’
‘People in the crowd are staring at Honor like she’s a cold sore on debs night’
‘The thought of booking a table for one at Shanahan’s on the Green got me through my prison sentence’
He goes, “A bit what?”
“A bit extreme?”
“Rosser, thee burdened down yisser house.”
“They didn’t burn it down. Only their bedroom was actually destroyed. The rest was, like, water damage?”
“And look where you’ve ended up libbon.”
Yeah, no, Stoney-focking-basher. In Sorcha’s old pair’s aportment. Until the place has been fixed up, which they’re saying could be, like, Morch of next year.
Sorcha’s old man walks into the kitchen then and – totally out of left field – goes, “We flush the toilet in this home.”
I’m there, “Excuse me?”
He doesn’t even acknowledge Ronan’s presence, by the way?
He goes, “I’m sure you’re used to my daughter doing everything for you. But while you’re living under my roof, you will learn to flush the toilet yourself.”
I’m there, “Your roof. You don’t have a roof. Your roof is somebody else’s floor.”
“Do you think you’d be here if it wasn’t for Sorcha? I’d happily see you out on the street – you and those children of yours.”
Yeah, no, that’s how he talks about his own grandkids.
I’m there, “I’m not sure I can put up with five months of this.”
He goes, “I’m sure you could find somewhere else to live – if you really put your mind to it.”
I suddenly hear this loud, smashing sound coming from outside.
“The fock was that?” I go.
The dude is like, “Your children are dropping Sorcha’s mother’s plant pots off the balcony. Do you want me to deal with that as well as flushing the toilet – and wiping the seat for you?”
Yeah, no, my aim wouldn’t be great – which is random, I know, coming from a kicker.
The dude focks off then and I turn around to Ronan and go, “Okay, let’s do it.”
He’s there, “Are you shewer?”
“Ro,” I go, “they’re out of control. I could have died in that fire.”
So Ronan whips out his phone and rings his mate, Borney. Half an hour later, the buzzer goes and I let the dude in. He’s a smiley dude but he’s built like a focking Portaloo.
He’s like, “Brian, Johnny and Leo – is that the names?”
I’m there, “Yeah, no, I’d big hopes at the stort.”
He goes, “Sure, lookish, we all need a steer at some point in our lives. Like this one here.”
He nods at Ronan.
He’s like, “How many times did your mammy ask me to throw you in the cells?”
“It was more than a few,” Ronan goes, laughing at the memory.
Borney’s there, “Go and get them,” which is what I end up doing?
The triplets are now spitting over the balcony onto the heads of the – in fairness – mostly hipsters below.
I’m like, “Goys, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you,” and they follow me inside. When they see the copper standing there, the three of them turn white. They obviously think it’s about them gobbing on the foraged cauliflower and turmeric latte crowd, which I’m not even sure is a crime.
‘Rosser, the last time Barney locked me up, I was 10 years old and me ma found a map of the Bank of Ireland on the Ballygall Road under me bed. I got it off Showtime Sal and Johnny the Rat’
Borney gets straight into character.
He goes, “I’m arresting you for causing criminal damage to a house in Killiney. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used in evidence against you.”
The three of them are in, like, genuine shock, but they go quietly, walking out the door ahead of Borney, who gives us a big wink and goes, “I’ll have them back to you in a few hours.”
Ronan can tell that I’m worried. He goes, “Thee’ll be mustard, Rosser. He’ll thrun them in a Peter for a couple of hours and you won’t know yisser selves, the diffordence in them.”
I’m there, “Yeah, no, you’re right. It has to be done.”
[ Ross O’Carroll-Kelly: ‘I wonder sometimes are these kids definitely mine’Opens in new window ]
“Rosser, the last time Barney locked me up, I was 10 years old and me ma found a map of the Bank of Ireland on the Ballygall Road under me bed. I got it off Showtime Sal and Johnny the Rat. Ten hours I was locked up. I nearly went off me nut. Barney says to me, ‘Could you do ten years of that?’ Let’s just say me career plans changed overnight.”
It’s shortly afterwards that Ronan’s phone ends up ringing. He answers and goes, “Barney, calm dowun. Take a brett. Where are you?” and then he hangs up and goes, “Mon, Rosser.”
I’m like, “What the fock is going on?” as I’m chasing Ronan down the stairs, across the forecourt and then out onto the street. We haven’t gone far before I get my answer.
There’s, like, a Gorda cor and it’s, like, bent around a lamppost and people are standing around, eating their fermented acorn waffles and drinking green juices out of mason jors, looking shocked.
Me and Ro race to the front of the cor. Borney is sitting in the driver’s seat. The airbag has gone off in his face.
Ronan’s like, “What happened, Barney?”
“The one with the glasses,” he goes, meaning obviously Leo, “made a grab for me handcuffs.”
I notice that – yeah, no – the dude’s left wrist is cuffed to the steering wheel.
The back door is open and there’s, like, no sign of Brian, Johnny and Leo.
I’m like, “Dude, where are my children?”
“Over there,” he goes, nodding in the direction of three boys, who are holding up the traffic by fighting in the middle of the road. Brian is wearing a Gorda hat – presumably Borney’s – and Johnny is trying to hit him over the head with an extendable truncheon, while Leo is screaming obscenities about the Gordai into Borney’s walkie-talkie.
“I’ve seen some mad kids in my time,” the poor dude goes, “but I’ve never seen anything like them.”
I’m there, “Can you maybe call for back-up? Get them to send another car?”
Ronan goes, “The fook do you think this is, Rosser, Uber?”
Borney’s like, “I could lose my job for this.”
And I’m there, “Right, well, thanks for trying, Borney. Okay, Brian, give the nice man back his pepper spray.”
