Sing along with the hero of French football

I’m screaming my head off as Mark Jones runs over the line and destroys any vestigial French hopes of retrieving this game.
Magnificent stuff.
I’ll just stand up now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to stand in front of my television and applaud Warren Gatland’s tremendous achievement.  Who’d begrudge him?
(Well actually, I can think of one [...]

It’s not that I want to diminish the achievements of England or France in any way.
I don’t. It’s great that two northern hemisphere nations have gone forward to the semi-finals, and I cheered my head off for both of them. Well done England, and Allez les Bleus!
It isn’t that. It’s just [...]

Well now.  What do you say about that?
France 25.  Ireland 3.
What the fuck do you say about that?
You could say the referee was very harsh against Ireland, and you’d be right.  He was.
But 25-3? 
Ah no.  He wasn’t harsh enough to account for that.
You could say we were unlucky.
Yes, you could say that and yes, you’d [...]

Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck!
Fuck.
Fuck it.
Evrything goes back to that afternoon in Croke Park when Clerc stole in for a late try, when Ireland should have closed the game out but, overcome by the occasion, faltered.
Italy are no longer the push-over they used to be, mainly thanks to Pierre Berbizier, a great [...]

I nearly forgot to mention this little episode, consumed as I was with the Croke Park thing at the weekend. On Sunday morning before we headed off to Mulligan’s, Wrinkly Paddy produced a full greasy fried breakfast for me.
There ya go, Bock. Line the stomach. Set you up for [...]

France have beaten Ireland and back here in Limerick, there’s a terrible air of dejection that will only lift when Munster beat Llanelli.
I bumped into a friend of mine. His name isn’t important, so we’ll just call him Festy.
Well, Festy, I greeted him. How’s things?
Not great, he responded glumly. Yesterday was one [...]

The first worrying thing was when some official walked out onto the pitch and welcomed everyone to Lansdown- sorry – Croke Park!
Oh noooo!!!
Then the Artane Band came out, and with my razor-sharp observational skills, I noticed that they aren’t the Artane Boys’ Band any more. Now, they have girls and other people [...]

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Part Six
Part Five
Part Four
Part Three
Part One

Jesus, said Wrinkly Paddy. This place is full of Northsiders.
True, I replied, but imagine how they feel. Their streets are full of Southsiders, Culchies and filthy garlic-eating surrender-monkeys.
God, he shuddered. Give me out that hip-flask quick.
Not fifteen minutes earlier, we had abandoned the safe and familiar shabbiness of Mulligan’s in Poolbeg Street [...]