And I go, ‘Yeah, well done against Japan yesterday. I thought Jack Conan did very well, even though Dan Leavy obviously took all the headlines … Hello? Hello?’ but by that stage the dude has already hung up.
I sit down on the jacks and I’m in just shock? That Joe Schmidt would accidentally ring my number but then stay on the line and give me, like, life advice is a bit surreal. And he’s totally right. My priority now has to be my own family.
Sometimes it just takes a wise head to help you see the bigger picture, even if he thought we were talking about something else completely.
I look at Fionn’s shoes and I think, Do you know what? Don’t bother. Take the high road. You don’t need to do this. Think of all the things you have going for you that Fionn doesn’t have? Shitting in his shoes is actually beneath you.
So I go back out to the kitchen and I put them back where I found them. And I suddenly feel good about myself. I wouldn’t be the first rugby player to say that Joe Schmidt has made me want to be a better person.
But then a minute or two later the good feeling passes, and I decide to shit in Fionn’s shoes after all.
So the day finally arrives. We’re standing outside the Facebook Ireland building in Grand Canal Square – the five of us staring up at this dork, glass structure, wondering how do we get inside?
‘So what happens next?’ Oisinn goes.
Then, automatically, they all turn to me for the game plan. It’s just like old times. Once a ten, always a ten.
I’m there, ‘It’s very simple. We’re going to morch in there and we’re going to ask them very nicely if can have our friend back.’
‘And if they say no?’ Oisinn goes.
‘Then, goys, we’re going to have to resort to Plan B.’
I don’t actually have a Plan B. I just figure I’ll think of something if it comes to it. So up the steps, then into the building we go. I walk straight up to reception and – with the goys standing behind me – I go, ‘Hi, I’m looking for Magnus, em – shit, I can’t remember his second name.’
‘Laakso-Sigurjónsson,’ Oisinn goes.
I’m like, ‘That’s easy for you to say!’ and I crack my hole laughing.
Okay, lunchtime pints might have been a bad idea before doing this and I definitely drank the last two a bit too quickly.
The receptionist storts eyeing us warily. ‘Do you have an appointment?’ she goes.
I’m there, ‘Do we look like we’ve an appointment?’ probably stinking of booze.
‘I’ll, em, try his extension,’ she goes, picking up the phone. She presses some numbers, listens for a few seconds, then goes, ‘Sorry, there’s no answer.’
Oisinn’s there ‘You didn’t dial a number. I watched you. You just touched the keys.’
All of a sudden, a voice behind us goes, ‘I’ll take it from here, Rebecca.’
We all turn around and there’s a dude standing there. It ends up being Chris, the Manager of SMB Accounts. He goes, ‘Can I help you gentlemen with something?’
He doesn’t even recognize me.
I’m there, ‘Er, Ross? As in, Ross O’Carroll-Kelly? I coached your tag rugby team – so-called.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he goes, ‘I remember you now.’
‘I focking hope so. It was, like, two weeks ago.’
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Yeah, no, we’re looking for Magnus.’
‘Which Magnus? We have a lot of Magnuses working here.’
I’m there, ‘Over to you, Oisinn.’
‘Laakso-Sigurjónsson,’ Oisinn goes.
The dude just smiles at us. Perfect teeth. Not a hair out of place. He goes, ‘I’m afraid Magnus is unavailable at the moment.’
‘Unavailable?’ Christian goes. ‘What does that mean?’
He’s there, ‘It means he’s not available,’ and there’s a definite change in his tone. ‘Now can I ask you to leave? Or do I have to call someone?’
I’m staring at the security barrier, wondering could I jump over it? And if I did, how far would I get? Then I spot the Lego model of the Facebook building and I’m thinking, What if one of us shoved that over and smashed it into a million pieces just to create a distraction? Would that give me enough time to reach the lifts? And when I reach the lifts, would I need an access cord to choose a floor?
Like I said, once a ten …
‘Come on,’ Oisinn goes, flicking his head in the direction of the door, ‘we don’t want any trouble.’
So we all follow him outside, feeling a little bit deflated, to be honest. It’s very unlike us to just give up like this. I say that to Oisinn as well as we’re tipping down the steps.
‘And just to let you know,’ I go, ‘I don’t actually have a Plan B?’
He’s like, ‘I do,’ because he always had a good tactical head on his shoulders himself. He stops walking and goes, ‘I hope you goys have a head for heights.’
I follow his line of vision. He’s staring at this window-cleaning – I want to say – rig that’s porked on the ground floor a few feet away.
I laugh. I have no head for heights, but I’m just about pissed enough not to give a fock.
We all walk over to it. Fionn is lagging a few feet behind us, going, ‘I really don’t think this is a good idea.’
I’m there, ‘Are you still in a snot over me shitting in your shoes?’
‘I can’t believe you’re still doing that.’
‘And I can’t believe you’re still leaving your shoes lying around when you know what I’m capable of.’
I jump into the thing first, followed by Oisinn, then JP and Christian. Then me and Oisinn just grab Fionn and drag him over the bor into it, while JP fiddles about with the controls to try to figure out how it works.
After a few seconds, the motor roars into life, then the rig sort of, like, lurches violently and we all end up nearly falling out of it.
‘Here,’ Christian goes, ‘give me the controls. It needs someone with sensitive hands.’
In all my years playing rugby, I don’t remember Christian ever knocking the ball on.
Suddenly, we stort moving slowly but steadily upwards. We’re about ten feet off the ground when I stort to feel sick and I tell myself not to look down. Instead, I stare straight ahead into the actual building as Christian takes us up through the floors.
We literally have a window into the world of Facebook.
We’re suddenly seeing men and women in preppy clothes having what looks like a pretty serious meeting while sitting cross-legged on the floor in a room with no furniture in it. We see a dude in a suit taking a call on his mobile phone while sitting in a tyre swing. We see a woman in a dentist’s chair texting someone while one of her back teeth is being ripped from her head.
We see a lot of things that I can never unsee? And then we see Magnus. Or, actually, Oisinn does.
He goes, ‘There he is! Christian, stop the rig!’ and we come to a jolting stop.
He’s standing very near the window, having a chat with Karim from Content Moderation (Happy Slappings, White Nationalism and Islamic State Executions).
Oisinn thumps the window with the side of his fist and Magnus turns to see us. We watch him mouth the words ‘What’sh going on?’ and then he walks over to the window.
He opens it. He’s like, ‘Guysh, what are you doing?’
And I’m there, ‘We’ve come here to rescue you!’ at the same time climbing in through the window.
I’m thinking this would make a cracking final scene in an actual romcom.
‘Reshcue?’ Magnus goes. ‘I don’t need to be reshcued!’
I’m there, ‘Well, I say you do.’
The rest of the goys climb in through the window as well. We’re talking Oisinn, then Christian, then JP, then Fionn.
‘Oisinn,’ Magnus goes, ‘what do you hope to achieve by thish?’
Oisinn’s there, ‘I want to save my marriage. I want to save our marriage.’
But Magnus sort of, li
ke, stares through him. He goes, ‘I have a preshentation to make thish afternoon to the EMEA Regional Training Team, then I am partnering Karim from Content Moderation in the Facebook Inter-Departmental Piggy-Back Competition. We’ve jusht been going over our shtrategy.’
A look passes between me and Oisinn. And between Oisinn and Christian. And between Christian and Fionn. And between Fionn and JP. And between JP and me. That’s all that’s ever necessary between people who played rugby together.
I tackle Magnus around the waist and knock him to the ground. He goes down easily. I’m tempted to say like a typical soccer player. Then the other goys are straight on him. Me and Fionn each take an orm, and Christian and JP each take a leg, while Oisinn takes his swipe cord from around his neck.
Magnus is shouting, ‘Guysh, no! Pleash! I have sho much work to do! Alsho, it ish Alan from Affiliate Referralsh Workavershary drinksh tonight!’ but we run down the corridor with him while Oisinn uses his swipe cord to open any doors we encounter along the way.
We reach the lift and in we go. Oisinn hits the button for the ground floor. Magnus is still roaring, ‘Pleash, guysh! Jusht take me back to my deshk!’
The lift doors open and we’re suddenly running with him through the lobby. Various people stop and stare at us in shock. Then I notice Chris from SMB Accounts on the other side of the barrier. He’s got his phone to his ear and my suspicion is that he’s trying to alert security.
‘Oisinn!’ I go, trying to draw his attention to him.
And Oisinn’s like, ‘I’m on it, Dude!’
He throws me the swipe cord, then he leaps over the barrier and he tackles Chris from SMB Accounts – high, but who gives a fock? The dude hits the deck.
I open the barrier and we go through it, then through the lobby and out onto Macken Street, where Oisinn – by some miracle of timing – manages to flag down a seven-seater taxi.
The driver doesn’t seem to mind that we have a man in a headlock who’s begging to talk to his Operations Leader.
‘Google?’ the driver goes, like a man who’s seen it all before.
Oisinn’s like, ‘Facebook.’
‘Fuck Google!’ Magnus manages to go. ‘That’sh a fucking inshult!’
The driver’s like, ‘Where to, fellas?’
And Oisinn puts his hand over his husband’s mouth and goes, ‘Home.’
9.
Every Woman’s Absolute Must-Have!
Honor rings me as I’m on the way to Little Cambridge to collect the boys. It’s always lovely to hear her voice. I stick her on speaker phone and I go, ‘Hey, Honor! Is everything okay?’
She goes, ‘Why do you always say it like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like you think I might have done something wrong?’
‘I find it’s easier all round to just expect the worst, Honor. Then when it turns out to be nothing, it actually feels good. You’ll be a parent yourself one day. I’m loving your and Erika’s videos, by the way – although I still think me and you made a better double act. But that’s just me being biased.’
‘Dad, I need to talk to you about something.’
‘Okay. Go ahead.’
‘I’ve decided to stay in Australia.’
I end up nearly running a red light on Morlborough Road – that’s how in shock I am?
I’m like, ‘Say that again?’
She goes, ‘Oh my God, I knew you’d overreact!’
‘I haven’t overreacted yet because I can’t believe what I’m actually hearing. Why do you want to stay in Australia?’
‘Because I love living with Erika and Helen. And we’re about to relaunch Love Honor and Obey as an actual lifestyle brand. We’re going to be doing, like, wellness summits. We’re going to be doing, like, fashion factories, where we offer, like, styling sessions, skincare advice, tanning demos, then a fashion show, followed by afternoon tea and everyone goes home with a luxury goodie bag.’
‘Yeah, no, it sounds definitely exciting, Honor.’
‘Well, there’s no point in me launching it and then suddenly leaving Australia, is there?’
‘God, I don’t know, Honor. What does Erika say?’
‘Erika says I should talk to you. That’s the reason I’m ringing. And I want an answer right now.’
‘I can’t give you an answer now, Honor. I’ll have to talk to Sorcha.’
‘Er, why?’
‘Because she’s your mother.’
‘Erika’s been more of a mother to me in the last two months than she’s ever been.’
‘Don’t say things like that.’
‘Er, she hasn’t spoken to me since I left Ireland?’
‘What? Is that true?’
‘Yes, it’s true. And, by the way, I know she refused to talk to me the last time I rang because I could hear her in the background.’
‘The thing is, Honor, I don’t want you to stay in Australia. The only thing that’s got me through the last couple of months is the thought that you’re coming back home at the end of August.’
She ends up totally losing it with me then.
She’s like, ‘Fock you! I knew you’d say no! You’re worse than her! You focking orsehole! I focking hate you! Fock you!’
Then she hangs up on me.
My ears are still ringing when I pull up outside Little Cambridge. I pork the cor, then in I go to collect the boys. They look like they’re having the time of their lives, by the way. Brian and Johnny are doing finger-painting – they’re shit at it – and Leo is trying his hand at the piano – also shit – but the point is they’re behaving themselves.
Jesus, Brian is even smiling!
I’m like, ‘Come on, goys, let’s hit the road,’ and that’s when Sasha appears and asks me if she can have a word.
I’m like, ‘Is everything okay?’
She goes, ‘Can we talk in private?’
And I’m there, ‘Er, okay?’ and I follow her into her office.
She shuts the door behind her.
I’m like, ‘What did they do?’ expecting her to tell me some story in which, I don’t know, another kid lost an eye or worse.
She goes, ‘They didn’t do anything,’ and she locks the door.
I’m there, ‘So why am I here?’
‘Because I want to ask you a question.’
‘Okay.’
‘When are you going to stop playing games with me?’
‘Games with you?’
‘Drop the little boy lost act, Ross. It doesn’t suit you.’
She pushes me down onto a swivel chair, hitches up her skirt and sits – I want to say – astride me?
She’s like, ‘We both know this is going to happen. It’s just a bit rude that you keep making me wait.’
Now, I’ve been around some corners in my life, but this is possibly the most lost for words I’ve ever been?
I’m there, ‘Sasha, I hope I didn’t give you the impression that –’
But before I can finish my sentence, she’s thrown the lips on me. She kisses me for a good thirty seconds and – to be fair – I definitely respond a little bit before she pulls away.
I’m there, ‘Sasha, I’m married.’
‘Yeah,’ she goes, ‘to Sorcha focking Lalor. Do you know how much we all hated her in Holy Child Killiney?’
‘Yeah, no, I’ve heard that from a few people over the years.’
‘She used to put on that ridiculous Mary Robinson voice whenever she debated. And the stupid focking hand gestures.’
She kisses me again.
I’m there, ‘I’m not a hundred percent sure that I should be doing this. You’re also married?’
‘Matthew’s an asshole,’ she goes, then she puts her hand between my legs and storts going at my understuff. ‘Er, you don’t seem to care as much as you’re pretending to?’
I go, ‘I can’t do this. Seriously, Sasha. Me and Sorcha have only just got back together,’ but at the same – me being me – I stort unbuttoning her blouse,
then I pull up her bra.
‘Of course it had to be Mount Anville,’ she goes as I’m giving Bert and Ernie a bit of love. ‘She was too good for Holy Child Killiney, even though it was only up the road.’
And it’s her slagging off Sorcha that eventually brings me to my senses. I tell her to get off me, which she does. I go, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I know it’s a word I hordly ever use – but it’s, like, inappropriate?’
‘Inappropriate?’ she goes, red-faced, not happy. ‘Seriously, do you know how long the waiting list is for this place?’
I’m there, ‘Yeah, no, I’ve heard it’s long alright.’
‘Do you want me to give you the names of all the actual celebrities whose kids I’ve turned away? And I took three of yours. You must have known there was going to be a quid pro quo, Ross.’
I’m there, ‘What are you saying?’
She walks over to the door and she opens it for me. She goes, ‘I know you’re famously slow on the uptake, Ross, so I’ll spell it out for you. I’m giving you two weeks to think about it. Either have sex with me or you can find another Montessori for your boys. And let me tell you, Ross, that won’t be an easy job.’
Sorcha says she can’t believe what Sasha told her this afternoon. And I go, ‘She’s lying, Sorcha. Whatever she’s claiming happened, it sounds like total horseshit to me.’
Sorcha just laughs. She’s there, ‘She paid me a compliment, Ross!’
‘Sorry, I thought it was going to be … Okay, keep going, Sorcha.’
‘She said that when I debated it always made her think of Mary Robinson! Isn’t that – oh my God – such an amazing thing to say?’
‘Yeah, no, it’s definitely that alright.’
I’ve let Sorcha do the school run for the past week or so in the hope that Sasha’s passion for me would somehow cool? But it obviously hasn’t because I got a text message from her an hour ago saying that she had sex with Matthew last night and she thought about me the entire time they were doing it.
It’s one of those ones where you don’t know whether to delete it or save it.
Sorcha goes, ‘She really is amazing, isn’t she, Ross? Even though I still think she fancies you!’
Schmidt Happens Page 32
