‘I’m not going to call you Mister anything,’ I tell the deputy principal, and the boys all stort sniggering

Honor’s date for the debs is a looker. She clearly takes after her old man in that regord

Ronan pours the wine and goes, ‘It’s a surprising little number with notes of candyfloss, anchovies and balsawood’

‘You were mugged in Dalkey? Things like that don’t happen there’

‘I didn’t do a tap in school and yet life worked out pretty well for me’

‘The old man running a restaurant is like asking me to teach physics through Irish’

‘Rugby is the best idea we’ve ever come up with as a species,’ I go, channelling Fr Fehily

Sorcha goes, ‘The Dalkey Lobster Festival is this weekend. How am I going to show my face?’

‘I think you should have a conversation with Honor about her drinking,’ Sorcha goes

‘I got thrun out of Amedica,’ Ronan goes. ‘Me visa was revoked’

When Honor drops the news, I sit there with my mouth open like someone from Roscommon seeing escalators for the first time

The old dear made a seating plan for her own funeral. She didn’t want ugly people in the first three pews

I get this sudden flashback to when I was six or seven and I’d hold the wheel steady for the old dear while she drove home, half-cut

The old dear goes, ‘Sorcha? I don’t know anyone of that name. Is she one of your tarts, Ross?’

Oisinn goes, ‘Dude, you’re saying goodbye. You do realise that? You’re saying goodbye to your old dear’

Brett goes, ‘She’s close to the end, Ross. I was thinking we should arrange a living funeral for her’

I’m always telling Sorcha to tone down the southside when we come out to Bray but she never listens

‘I haven’t really been living before now,’ Brett tells his wife. ‘Ross has slept with more than 800 women’

‘I’m not even a bit stressed,’ Honor goes, ‘I haven’t done a focking tap for these exams’

He obviously decided that he’d wasted his life, focusing on career, marriage and family goals