‘Your old dear has sticky-out ears and legs like the William Dorgan Bridge’

'I can't actually believe this?" Sorcha goes.

And I’m there, “If it’s any consolation, I can’t believe it either.”

"I mean, my mom… is having, like, sex… with your dad."

“Stop, I’m going to spew all over this hordwood floor.”

Animal magnetism: The Kilkenny farm taking social media by storm

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‘I’m going to ask you something,’ Sorcha goes, ‘Have you two been sleeping together?’

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‘I’m in a long-distance relationship and now dread our phone call every night’

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Four wines that show why South African vineyards are getting rave reviews

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“What the hell is she even thinking? Er, Chorles O’Carroll-Kelly?”

“Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“They’re carrying on like two teenagers.”

“Yeah, no, I’m talking about the way you said my old man’s name just then - like you think he’s not good enough for her.”

“I’m not being a snob, but mom is married to one of Ireland’s leading family law solicitors.”

“And what’s my old man?”

"He's a disgraced businessman who's served actual prison time, Ross, and is now the leader of a political porty that believes women should have to re-sit their driving test every six months to prove their competency to drive."

“Well,” I go, “your old dear is no scene-stealer. I’m on the record as saying that she has sticky-out ears and legs like the William Dorgan Bridge.”

“Well, at least she doesn’t have burst capillaries in her face and stink of cigor smoke.”

"No, but she wears way too much perfume. Plus she's got that really annoying throat-clearing habit. E-hem. E-hem. E-hem."

"And what about your dad spitting whenever he talks? Jesus, you can't have a conversation with him without ending up - oh my God - covered in saliva. He's also a manspreader. Someone needs to tell him that sofa in there was actually built for three people, not one person with his legs opened inappropriately wide."

The old man goes, "Can I just remind you two that we are still sitting here!"

Sorcha's there, "No, you don't get to talk, Chorles. I'm sorry, but you lost that privilege when you seduced my mother under my roof."

Sorcha’s old dear laughs.

"Seduced me?" she goes. "Sorcha, can we please talk about this like grown-ups?"

“I don’t want to talk about it at all,” Sorcha goes. “I just want it to stop.”

"Well, I don't want it to stop," the woman goes. "Chorles is a wonderful man - despite all those very hurtful things you just said about him."

I'm there, "If anyone's punching above their weight, in fairness, it's very much you, Mrs Lalor - no offence."

“I won’t deny it,” the woman goes. “Feelings have grown between us over the past few weeks. It storted on the golf course...”

“Like all the best things that have happened in my life,” the old man goes, “both business and personal! Did I tell you that Ross was conceived the night I corded a five-under-por 64 to finish third in the 1979 Elm Pork Pro-Am?”

Sorcha just shakes her head.

She's like, "I can't believe this is happening. I'm, like, hoping it's just a phase?"

I watch my old man and Sorcha's old dear exchange a look. Then he goes, "It's most definitely not a phase, Sorcha. Your mother and I are in love."

I'm like, "Love?" and I'm saying that as someone who has to switch the channel when there's, like, old people on First Dates. "People of your age should know better."

Sorcha doesn’t say anything. She just, like, bursts into tears, then turns on her heel and storms out of the kitchen.

“Which one is the William Dorgan Bridge?” the old man goes. “It’s not the one where the Luas line crosses over Taney Road, is it?”

I’m there, “Seriously, you two would want to cop yourselves on,” and I follow my wife outside into the hallway. She has her coat on and she’s on her way out the door.

I’m like, “Where are you going?”

She’s there, “I’m going to talk to your mom.”

“What?”

"I'm going to tell her what's been going on. Hopefully, she can talk some sense into your dad."

I didn't think 2020 could get any actually weirder"

I decide to go with her and we end up taking her Nissan Leaf. I'm not saying that I totally agree with my old man in terms of politics, but Sorcha is someone who could definitely benefit from sitting a driving test on an annual basis and hopefully that's not me being sexist.

She says nothing during the drive to Foxrock, except, "I didn't think 2020 could get any actually weirder," and, "If you're thinking about commenting on my driving, Ross, I'm warning you now - don't!"

I’m there, “Nothing could be further from my mind, Sorcha.”

“Don’t give me that,” she goes. “I could hear you silently judging me when I drove through that orange light.”

It wasn’t orange, by the way. Again, not sexist.

We pull into my old dear’s driveway. I’m there, “Maybe we should call back later. She’ll still be sleeping off her breakfast.”

But Sorcha goes ahead and presses the doorbell.

Sixty seconds later, the woman comes shambling down the hallway like someone trying to keep their balance on the deck of a ship. She opens the door.

I'm there, "You do know you're not supposed to drink the hand sanitiser?" because there's something about my old dear that makes me really raise my game in terms of coming up with hurtful things to say.

She's like, "Oh… er… em… oh… er… em… er…" totally lost for words, because it was a zinger, in all fairness to it.

“Fionnuala,” Sorcha goes, “I have something to tell you. You probably should sit down.”

“Or lie down,” I go, “given how many you’ve obviously had” -

And then I suddenly stop. Because that's when I spot it, out of the corner of my eye. A 2007 Hyundai Santa Fe, next to the old dear's drunkenly porked Range Rover. I'd know that cor anywhere.

“What I have to tell you is going to shock you,” Sorcha goes. “But I think it’s only fair that you should know.”

But suddenly we hear a voice coming from behind my old dear. A man’s voice, going, “You know, all that tension in my neck and shoulder has gone, Fionnuala - you really do have magic hands!”

And then he appears in the hallway, wearing my old man’s dressing gown and holding a cocktail big enough to sanitise the Midlands.

“Sorcha!” he goes.

And Sorcha’s like, “Dad?”