Today is officially Grandad’s Day
They’ve called it National Grandparents Day, but I know they mean me.
It took a bit of persuading to get Bertie to call it. It involved a few Yen, Roubles and Dollars, a briefcase and Celia Larkin, but he got the €20 in the end. That bloke will do anything for money.
I’ve been told that if I go into St Stephen’s Green and run around like a tool, I’ll get a certificate signed by the Lord Mayor of Dublin. Be still, my beating heart! He can f*ck off. I have enough certificates, signed by better
psychiatrists people than the Lord Mayor. I’ll send Puppychild in on the bus and she can run around for me.
The great thing about today is that the daughter has to pay homage yet again. We can screw her between birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and now Grandparent’s Day. There is no such thing as Daughter’s Day, so it’s all one way traffic. About bloody time. We suffered enough when she was growing up.
And that goes for the rest of you too. You have to pay homage to me and Herself. We will accept the usual financial donations in lieu of gifts.
Please don’t insult us with anything less than €100.
You have to do it.
It’s the law.