‘Have you ever had an episode like this before? Ridiculous question. You could use his orteries for attic insulation’

“What does a lawyer get when you give him Viagra?” one of the old man’s friends goes. “Taller!”

Pretty much everyone in Doheny & Nesbitts laughs? Even Hennessy Coghlan-O'Hara, who's one himself.

I'm almost sure the old man doesn't even get the joke, because he goes, "Laughter is the shortest distance between two people! Audacter calumniare, semper aliquid haeret! Quote-unquote!"

They'd want to lay off the brandy. They're supposedly in court in the morning. The old man is taking a case to try to have the Constitution declared unconstitutional. This goes back to, like, a year ago, when he argued in the High Court that gender quotas in politics were "repugnant to the system". They literally laughed him out of the place, as did the Supreme Court when he tried them. So now he wants to take down the entire legal system by having the Constitution declared – like I said – unconstitutional?

Speaking of repugnant to the system…

“Ross,” the old man goes, “you were about to say something!”

I’m there, “I wasn’t. I thought I was going to be sick from all the brandy you’ve been feeding me. But it turned out to be just a belch.”

Again, everyone laughs. That’s Doheny’s for you – very different from the Kielys crowd.

The old man goes, “A satirical comment on this country’s legal system worthy of the Dean of St Patrick’s himself! Well, if you’re quite finished, Kicker, I wouldn’t mind getting a word in edgeways, if I may. Unaccustomed as I am to making big speeches, I just wanted to say that tomorrow is a big day for us. Hennessy and I are going to court to prove that a document adopted by a generation of people long since dead cannot and should not be considered a manifestation of consent on the part of those currently living!”

There’s a big cheer. I suppose it’s going to be a day out for everyone, isn’t it?

“The Government brought this upon itself,” he goes, “with this ridiculous gender quotas nonsense, which I think we’d all agree represented a deliberate and calculated effort to take out an opponent, namely New Republic, a party that had promised the Irish people a new way of doing politics, albeit with only one lady candidate.

"Now, I love women. As do you, Hennessy. Love them too much, in your case – although I don't want to start dredging up your divorce again! A very wise man once said to me, 'A woman brought each and every one of us into the world – so who the hell are we to disrespect them?' That man, it may surprise you to learn, was Mister Donald Trump, on the fifth hole of a charity pro-am in Doonbeg in 2014.

"But at the same time, there's no doubt that their brains are different to ours. I'm not saying they're worse, or smaller, or inferior, or anything like that. They're just different. Fifty percent women in the Dáil, I think we'd all agree, would represent bloody well anarchy. That's why the electorate has never gone for it, no matter how many women we put on the ballot paper. We have to find the optimum balance – the gender biting point, if you will – and we will not do that by legally coercing political parties such as ours to trawl the kitchens of Ireland looking for women whom the electorate might consider suitable.

“Let us not forget that that is the reason Hennessy and I have chosen to try to tear down the entire framework upon which the law of this country is based.”

Again – cheers. I suppose this is what passes for entertainment in here when there’s no rugby on.

“Lastly,” he goes, “I just wanted to say something about this splendid chap here beside me – my confessor, confidant and long-suffering golf partner. For almost 50 years, through thick, to say nothing of thin, Hennessy Coghlan-O’Hara has been at my side. He has been my friend, my counsellor and my guiding light. He is without question this country’s shrewdest legal mind. And I feel fully confident of victory walking into the court with him next to me tomorrow.”

The most unbelievable thing happens then. Hennessy falls flat on his face. There's nothing particularly unbelievable about that. That'd be a pretty regular occurrence – and it's never stopped him going into court the following morning and winning actual cases. The unbelievable part is that he's still actually conscious when he hits the deck? As a matter of fact, he grabs my ankle and he squeezes it in a way that seems to say, 'Get help!'

I’m there, “I think it’s another hort attack!” and I roll him over onto his back, loosen his tie and undo his top button. I notice that he’s, like, clutching his orm.

I’m there, “Hang on in there, Hennessy! Just hang on in there!”

The old man goes, “Is there a doctor in the house?”

Of course, asking that in Doheny’s is like sticking your head in the door of an early house and going, “Is there a docker in the house?”

Three immediately step forward and they stort tending to him, while my old man phones for an ambulance going, “Never mind my name – there’s a man down here, a bloody good man!”

One of the doctors goes, “Hennessy, have you ever had an episode like this before?”

Which is a ridiculous question. As he says himself, you could use his orteries for attic insulation. Hennessy just nods.

I'm there, "This is the fifth or sixth. I'm, like, his godson?"

I feel his fingers suddenly digging in my orm. He could be saying thank you or he could be objecting to the godson thing. You wouldn’t know with him.

The ambulance eventually arrives. It comes to a screaming halt outside the pub, then Hennessy is loaded onto a trolley and wheeled outside. The old man runs alongside it, going, “You’re going to be okay, old scout. You’re going to be okay.”

Hennessy goes, “I’ll… see you in court… in a few hours.”

But the old man’s like, “I’m sorry, Hennessy, you’re in no fit state. There’s only one thing for it. I shall go to court and argue the case myself!”