I had a bit of a rough night the night before last.  Maybe it was just old age or maybe it was a bad pint, but I didn’t sleep very well.

Last night I made up for it.  I had a great sleep with beautiful dreams where sunny beaches, Sharon Ni Bheolain and bikinis featured prominently.  It was good, and I didn’t wake ‘til late in the morning.

I was just contemplating putting my clothes on, when the phone rang.

I managed to answer it, which was quite an accomplishment, as essentially I was still asleep.  It was TippFM wanting to know if I would do a live interview for their morning programme.  What was worse, they wanted to do it there and then.  Fuck!

I am a bit like a steam locomotive.  I need to have my fires lit and I need to build up a head of steam before I venture onto the track.  So here I was, bollock naked, without my morning pipe full and no mug of tea and worst of all, a head that was still on a tropical island.

They said they would phone back in a couple of minutes, so I frantically put on the kettle and hunted for my pipe.  Too late.  The phone rang, and I was on air.

It was a disaster!

The poor chap in the studio did his best to wake me up, but it was a lost cause.  There I was, stark naked in full view of the entire county of Tipperary and I couldn’t think.  There were lots of emms, and errs, and my mouth was dry from lack of tea, and a mind as blank as Mary Harney’s.

He asked me questions and I struggled for answers as my dangly bits swayed gently in the breeze.

He gave up in the end.  I can’t say I blame him.  That’s probably the end of his career.

I finally got dressed, made my tea and lit the pipe.  I’m now awake and wondering if it all really happened.

I don’t remember what I said as it’s all a bit of a blur.  Did I let rip with a few fucks and cunts?  Did I mention anyone by name?  Can I expect some angry litigation?

Did I really stand naked in front of an entire county?