Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

So it’s, like, 11 o’clock on Sunday morning and I’m hord at work – albeit still in bed – making notes in my famous Rugby Tactics Book. Sorcha walks into the room and goes, “Get dressed, Ross. We’re going out for lunch.”

“Kicker!” the old man has the actual nerve to go. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”

Sorcha says this is the worst thing I’ve ever done. And it’s far from it. I could give her a list of 50 things, except I doubt if it would help my cause.

There’s no sugar-coating this one. We’ve been taken to the literally cleaners today. Yeah, no, beaten 45-10 by – and there’s easy way of saying this – Wesley College, the same Wesley College who haven’t won a Leinster Schools Senior Cup since the world was in pretty much black and white.

I’m like, “A what?” And Honor goes, “A double date. It’s cute.” I’m there, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Claire from Bray of all places–”

Joy Felton – yeah, no, one of our neighbours – is standing at the front gates as I swing the cor into the driveway and she nearly ends up with the BMW logo imprinted backwards across her, I want to say, midriff?

A Prius pulls up at the next pump, just as I’m imagining what topics my pep talk would touch on, and suddenly I hear the driver say my name. She’s like, “Ross!”

So – yeah, no – I’m in the staffroom and I’m chatting to one or two teachers about the Leinster match against La Rochelle: Miss Casey, who teaches something-or-other, and Miss Nealon, who teaches, I don’t know, something else.