Jimmy Carr though, what a twat.
A pleasant day today, though long. Roused myself at 7am in Limerick to make it to work at a reasonable hour, and swore blind (why is that a saying?) that I wouldn't go boozing, that I'd come back to the apartment straight after leaving Setanta Central and make tea and the like...
So anyway, met Skehan and the belle and went for grub in that Italian place, what's it called? Oh yeah, Bar Italia, and came back to the apartment DETERMINED that I wouldn't go any further with the hooch than the couple of glasses of wine with the meal...
So anyway, was sat here at 11 bells, watching that withering gobshite Carr doing some countdown show, ready for the leaba, when the quare lad, Richie himself, texts to see if I'd be on for a local few.
So anyway, we hit the Ferryman, and had a nice couple (three) before we realised the barman was serving no more and we "may take ourselves on home."
Upshot: Sat here at 3 in the morning with the laptop, dallying around when I should have been asleep hours ago.
Terrible man, that Richie Roche.