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?