Father and son. From the same city. And we might as well be a donkey talking to a parrot

So it’s, like, ten o’clock on a Friday night and Ronan’s at the front door. He goes, “How are you fixed for the Oddle Arelint football fidal on Suddendee, Rosser?”

I’m just, like, staring at him, not a focking clue what he’s banging on about. He cops the stupid look on my face. Like when an ATM asks me if I want to do the transaction in English or Irish.

“How are you fixed,” he goes, “for the Oddle ... Arelint ... football ... fidal ... on Suddendee?”

I’m there, “Ro, could you not even try to make yourself understood? As in, could you maybe – yeah, no – tone down the accent?”

‘I remember Past Ross thinking, you need to stort being nicer to Future Ross. He’s a genuinely good bloke’

‘Sorcha, I’m wondering is climate justice maybe a bit above Santa’s pay grade?’

Sorcha goes, ‘I make no apologies for saying it, Honor. You are a danger to democracy’

He’s like, “What, like you do when you you’re thalken to me, Rosser?”

I’m there, “Dude, believe it or not, this is me toning down my accent?”

It’s, like, so random. Father and son. From the same city. And we might as well be a donkey talking to a parrot.

I’m there, “I think I heard something about football. Are the famous Dubs playing in, like, the big Celtic Sports Final this weekend?”

He’s like, “Playing Keddy, Rosser.”

“And you have a ticket for me,” I go. “Is that what’s going on here?”

He’s like, “That’s reet, Rosser. Just like you brung me to the Leddenster match against La Rochedoddle a munt or two ago.”

I’m there, “I did, Ro! I did!” even though I’ve no idea what he just said to me. “Why are you dressed in black, by the way?” and that’s when I notice Buckets of Blood’s white Transit van in the driveway, with Buckets, Gull and Nudger sitting in the front.

He goes, “We’re on the huddent, Rosser.”

I’m there, “The–?”

“Huddent,” he goes, “For the SUV Avedenger!”

My blood – I shit you not – turns instantly cold.

I’m there, “The SUV Avenger?” acting the total innocent. “What are you talking about?”

He goes, “Hab you not hoord, Rosser? There’s some sham out theer – some envirdon mentoddle teddodist – and they’re boorsting the tyres of SUVs all oaber the southside of the city.”

I’m like, “So? I thought you’d actually be in favour of that? You always said that SUV stood for Stupid, Ugly, Vacuous.”

He’s there, “That was befower me and the boys heerd about the bounty, Rosser.”

I’m like, “Bounty?”

He goes, “Tree or fower SUV dealerships on the southside is arthur getting togetter and they’re offerding a reward for the capture of the SUV Avedenger.”

I’m there, “When you say a reward, how much are we talking in terms of?”

He goes, “Two-hundorded-and-fifty thousint eurdos.”

Without even looking over his shoulder, Ronan goes, “Buckets!” and then he does this sort of, like, whistle without even putting his fingers in his mouth. I honestly can’t believe he’s my son sometimes

I’m like, “Two-hundred-and-fifty thousand?” thinking I’d nearly turn Honor in myself for that kind of moo, knowing that the case would never go to court because (a) she’s too young and (b) she’s from a good family, in other words middle class.

Without even looking over his shoulder, Ronan goes, “Buckets!” and then he does this sort of, like, whistle without even putting his fingers in his mouth. I honestly can’t believe he’s my son sometimes.

Buckets gets out of the van and he walks towards us carrying a length of rope and what looks very much to me like an Aldi Bag for Life. Buckets, who I’ve always had a huge amount of time for, goes, “How’s tings, Rosser? You all set for Croker on Suddendee?”

I’m there, “I’ve no idea what you’re trying to say, Buckets,” because it’s like listening to Flipper the focking Dolphin. “So let’s just leave it at that, shall we? What’s the rope for?”

Ronan goes, “That’s what we’re godda use to tie the fedda up. Then we’ll put the Bag for Life oaber he’s head and brig him in.”

I’m there, “Him?”

Ronan’s like, “Soddy?”

I go, “Yeah, no, you seem pretty convinced that the SUV Avenger is, like, a dude. Maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s – I’m just going to come out say the word – a woman?”

Ronan and Buckets exchange a look. Ronan’s there, “I hadn’t thought of that, Buckets. Could weddle be a wooban.”

I’m like, “Dude, do you not think this so-called SUV Avenger, whoever she happens to be – or him – is doing a good thing? As in, people on this side of the city are taking the pistachio and in a major, major way. They’re, like, driving their kids to school in cors that were designed for herding water buffalo on the Seren-focking-geti.”

“Rosser,” he goes, “Ine shewer thee hab their reasons for doing what they’re doing, but it’s a quather of a middion snots. You cadent turden yisser noses up at that.”

I’m there, “Okay, I’ve no focking idea what you just said. But I presume you were saying you’re doing it mainly for the money.”

“Correct shidden,” he goes. “We’re doing it purely for the muddy. We catch this fedda – or boord – in the act and it’ll change isser lives forebber.”

I’m like, “Yeah, no, fair focking focks, Ro. I’m saying it.”

“In addyhow,” he goes, “will I see you on Suddendee?”

I’m there, “Yeah, no, I’ll meet you in the usual, Clonliffe House.”

Then off he focks.

“there’s all these, like, copycat SUV Avengers out there? Trying to steal, like, my thunder?”
— Honor

I tip back into the gaff and upstairs to Honor’s room. Yeah, no, she’s dressed in black as well?

I’m there, “Honor, maybe don’t go out tonight.”

She goes, “Er, I have to go out?”

I’m like, “Why?”

She’s there, “Because there’s all these, like, copycat SUV Avengers out there? Trying to steal, like, my thunder?”

I’m like, “Let them have it. That’s what I say.”

But she goes, “No focking way. I’ve put, like, way too much groundwork into this to let someone just, like, take it from me?”

I’m there, “Honor, there’s a bounty on your head. A few of the dealerships have got together and put up a reward of two-hundred-and-fifty grandingtons for your – yeah, no – capture.”

She’s like, “I know! It’s so exciting, isn’t it?”

I’m there, “Honor, there’s people are out there, driving the roads in vans, with ropes and Bags for Life, waiting for bring you to justice. Including your brother, by the way, who was just at the front door.”

She goes, “They’ll never catch me, Dad – because I’m, like, too clever? And even if they do, the case will never go to court, because (a) I’m too young and (b) I’m from a good family, in other words middle class.”

And – yeah, no – even though I’m worried about the girl, it’s nice to see that she understands how the world works.