Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

So – yeah, no – it’s that magical night of the year again when we all sit down as a family and write our letter to Santa Claus. We’ve the Bublé CD on and we’re all wearing our Christmas jumpers.

Honor is in an absolute fouler when she gets into the cor.I’m there, “Tough day at school?”

There’s a Gorda cor bent around a lamppost and people are standing around looking shocked. Who could be responsible for this cornage?

Sorcha is flirting with the fireman while the focking house is on fire, but there’ll be focking war if she finds out about the fireworks

So I’m standing with Honor at the junction of Foster Avenue and the N11 and we’re watching people pass us by with agony, I don’t know, etched all over their faces? Yeah, no, JP is running the Dublin City Marathon and I’ve turned up to cheer him on, as well as – obviously – the rest of the field.

Hennessy Coghlan-O’Hara rings me. Which is a rare enough occurrence. On the four, maybe five, occasions it’s happened, it’s been to ask me to retrieve the Go Bag that he insists on storing in our attic and to drive him to Dublin Airport.

JP says Chloe is writing a novel based on her college days. He’s like, “She’s hoping to do for DBS what Sally Rooney did for Trinity.”

Sorcha asks if the beef is from a regenerative form and I end up having to look away. Seriously, you can’t bring her anywhere.

Hennessy, the old man and Honor are sitting around the island, looking as thick as thieves. Which is exactly what they are.