Ross O’Carroll-Kelly: ‘I genuinely feel like grabbing that wig right now and focking it in the Liffey’

Denis O’Brien is giving evidence. His barrister goes, “How long have you known Charles O’Carroll-Kelly?”

And Denis is there, “I don’t know Charles O’Carroll-Kelly. I don’t know him at all.”

The old man shouts, “That hurts, Denis! Oh, that’s the salt in the proverbial wound!”

The barrister goes, "This is despite his claim that you were once friends. Good friends, according to him."

"I may have met him once or twice over the years," he goes. "I remember he walked up to me at Leopardstown one Christmas and asked if he could touch my hair."

“He asked if he could touch your hair?”

“He said he’d admired it for years and he wanted to pat it with his hand just to test its tensile strength.”

“A rather strange thing to say, wouldn’t you think?”

“That’s why I made an excuse and left.”

“Did you ever meet him again?”

"About a year later, in the Shelbourne Hotel. Again, he was fixated on my hair. He said that in all the acres of coverage given over to the tribunal, not one journalist had mentioned my magnificent hemispherical mane – his words – as the true source of my success as an entrepreneur. Then he asked again if he could touch it."

“So you know that your hair was something that Charles O’Carroll-Kelly coveted?”

“He seemed rather obsessed with it.”

"How did you feel when you first saw him with Denis O'Brien hair."

"I was a bit annoyed. But it was later on, when people started to mistake me for Charles O'Carroll-Kelly, that I knew I had to do something."

“It caused you a great deal of embarrassment – would I be correct in saying that?”

"Yes, you would. A man walked up to me when I was leaving the Aviva Stadium, for instance, and told me I'd spoiled his enjoyment of an Ireland rugby match by repeatedly shouting the word, 'Endure!' throughout the second half."

I laugh. I'm there, "The old man definitely does that. It's incredibly annoying. He also shouts, 'Stealth!' He's been threatened with I don't know how many deckings?"

The judge tells me – in legalese – to basically butt out.

Denis goes, “Another man approached me as I was walking into Brown Thomas and said he’d bought one of the O’Carroll-Kelly houses in West Dublin that were built in the 1970s on a flood plain. He said that he thought about me every time it rained and he and his wife had to use buckets to bail out the livingroom.”

“Would it be true to say,” the barrister goes, “that since Charles O’Carroll-Kelly started wearing that wig, you have been caused considerable public embarrassment?”

“Yes.”

“And held up to ridicule?”

“Yes.”

“Which is why you’re demanding that he remove it from his head?”

“Yes.”

“No further questions.”

There’s a break for lunch. We all head for the Chancery Inn. I order a pint of Amsterdamage while the old man goes into a huddle with Hennessy and his barrister to discuss their strategy for cross-examining Denis.

The old man is going, “Those houses were not built on a flood plain. They were built on hydric soil. I want you to make that clear in the afternoon.”

The old man’s barrister goes, “With respect, Charles, the houses aren’t really the issue in this case.”

"I'll decide what is and isn't an issue. I want the court record amended to remove any reference to flooding. They are subject to seasonal saturation. Remind me again how much I'm paying you?"

Two grand a minute would be my guess.

Hennessy storts looking at his phone, checking his emails.

I stare at the old man over the top of my pint and I go, “The dude is wiping the floor with you in there. It’s hilarious seeing you get your final comeuppance.”

He’s like, “Don’t you worry your head, Ross. There’s a twist or two left in this case.”

"I'm not worried. I told you, I'm on his side. I just think back to the time Johnny Sexton went to Racing Metro. Sorcha will tell you. I wasn't eating. I was drinking like a rock star. I was wetting the… Well, let's just say my mattress was subject to seasonal saturation."

“We were all upset, Ross. Hennessy and I arranged a candlelit vigil outside the French embassy.”

“Yeah, a candlelit vigil – and what did that achieve?”

“It let the French know in no uncertain terms that they should keep their grasping hands off our bloody well players – especially Messrs Heaslip, Kearney and O’Brien.”

“Well, while you were doing that, Denis O’Brien was putting his money where his mouth was and coming up with a plan to bring the great man home. And we should be thanking him for that – as a people. I genuinely feel like grabbing that wig right now and focking it in the Liffey.”

“I’m using a rather strong adhesive, Ross.”

“Yeah, no, it wouldn’t actually bother me if you were still attached to it at the time.”

“I know it’s difficult for you to understand, Ross, but this case, well, it’s about a very important principle.”

Hennessy looks up from his phone. “Trouble,” he goes.

The old man’s like, “Trouble? What is it, old scout?”

“An email from the Department of Homeland Security.”

Hennessy and the old man have submitted a tender to build a portion of the wall between Mexico and, like, the States?

“What,” the old man goes, “don’t they like our tender?”

Hennessy’s there, “The tender is fine. It seems that President Trump… doesn’t like your hair.”

“Doesn’t like my hair?”

“Says it reminds him of someone.”

Hennessy stares at him, waiting for the penny to drop. In the end, he has to help him get there.

He goes, “A friend of Bill and Hillary.”

The old man finally cops it. He’s like, “No!”

Hennessy’s there, “Yes!”

And with that, the old man grabs the wig with his two hands, and, closing his eyes against the pain, rips it from his head and drops it on to the bor.

He’s there, “Go ahead, Kicker – throw it in the river,” and then he turns to his barrister and goes, “Tell Denis we’re happy to discuss a settlement.”

I’m like, “What about that very important principle?”

And he goes, “Like you said, Ross, he did give us Johnny Sexton back.”