The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightdress

by Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

  I’m in town, roysh, basically mooching around, checking out the scenario, when all of a sudden my phone rings and I know without even looking at it, roysh, that it’s Sorcha, because Christian downloaded the ‘Darth Vader Morching Theme’ for me and lashed it on my phone and that’s what plays now when she rings. I’m there, ‘Y’ello?’ and she’s like, ‘Ross, where are you?’ and I go, ‘Er, Grafton Street?’ and she’s like, ‘Oh. Do you fancy calling into the shop?’ and she sounds sort of, like, worried about something, so I tell her I’ll be around in, like, five minutes.

  When I get there, roysh, the shop’s empty and she gives me this, like, huge hug, which is a bit OTT, considering I only saw her last night. I’m there, ‘What’s wrong, Babes?’ and she goes, ‘Erika’s coming in. She’s, like, SO pissed off about us getting back together and I just know she’s going to be a total bitch to me. Please, Ross, I need you here for, like, moral support,’ and I’m there, ‘Hey, it’s Kool and the Gang, Babes,’ and all of a sudden, roysh, I see Sorcha’s eyes sort of, like, widen in, you’d have to say, terror and I know without even turning around, roysh, that she has walked into the shop.

  She’s like, ‘Hi, Sorcha. Hi, Ross. Look at love’s young dream. All back together and everything. No more secret children out there, I hope?’ and I’m like, ‘Er, no, there’s no more,’ and I hate myself for sounding so focking weedy. She goes, ‘That coat in the window, Sorcha…’ and Sorcha’s like, ‘The Alberta Ferretti? It’s, like, chocolate brown?’ and Erika’s there, ‘Yes,’ and Sorcha comes out from behind the counter and goes, ‘Yes, it’s nine hundred euro,’ and Erika’s like, ‘Sorry, you misunderstood me. I don’t want it. I’m just telling you that patent leather is SO last year,’ and Sorcha’s like, ‘Oh,’ and Erika goes, ‘Mind if I look around?’ and she doesn’t even, like, wait for an answer. She’s already laden down with BT bags.

  I turn to Sorcha and I’m like, ‘Why do you let her get to you?’ and she goes, ‘Because she knows how to get under my skin, Ross. She SO knows it. Look at that top she’s wearing,’ and I’m there, ‘What in particular am I looking at?’ and she goes, ‘It’s a Chloë, cotton, geometric-print button-down. As in, Stella McCartney? She knows I’m trying to get my hands on her stuff for the shop. That’s why she wore it.’

  Erika’s going around examining clothes like they’re, I don’t know, toxic waste or something, even though it’s all, like, good gear, as in Whistles, Moschino, Donna Karan, and Joseph. She keeps, like, tutting and shaking her head. Then she goes, ‘Those Prada rust suede-and-wool patchwork coats you have were SO nice when they were in,’ and I’m looking at Sorcha, roysh, and her eyes are, like, filling up, but of course Erika never takes that as her cue that she’s won.

  She goes, ‘I met your little novelty friend – what’s her name? – Claire coming out of Blue Eriu. She never stops making the effort, you have to give it to her. She said you were going to be doing Love Kylie,’ and she storts making a big show of looking around, even though she knows Sorcha hasn’t got it in yet. Sorcha goes, ‘I haven’t actually finalized the deal yet. I’ve been pretty busy with my Amnesty commitments,’ and Erika just, like, looks her up and down, roysh, and goes, ‘You’re a talker, Sorcha Lalor. A talker and a dreamer. Always were, always will be,’ and Sorcha has to turn away, roysh, so Erika doesn’t see her crying and I decide, roysh, that I’m not having anyone upset my, basically, wife like that.

  I’m there, ‘Erika, you are one sad person,’ and she goes, ‘Oh am I, Ross? And you’re in a position to see that, are you?’ and I’m there, ‘Yeah, you’re actually sad and lonely. Because you’ve no friends,’ but it has absolutely no effect on her, roysh, she just goes, ‘But I do have a fabulous new boyfriend. He’s a show-jumper. He’s one of the richest men in Ireland,’ and she give us both this, like, totally fake smile and then she goes, ‘I’ll leave you two to your sham of a marriage,’ and then she turns around and walks out of the shop.

  Sorcha just, like, bursts into tears and collapses into my orms basically. I’m telling her she should know better than to listen to Erika, but she’s bawling her eyes out, going, ‘She’s right, though, Ross. I have let things slip here. I had that petition to organize for that guy executed in Texas. I should be more on top of things. I didn’t even know that patent leather was out this year. Imagine that! I am SO going to have to get my act together.’

  I’m like, ‘This shop is a lot to manage on your own, Sorcha. Would your old dear not let you, I don’t know, take someone else on?’ and she goes, ‘I’m thinking of asking Aoife,’ as in her friend. I’m there, ‘Is she not in hospital?’ and she goes, ‘She’s out now. And she’s actually much better,’ and I’m there, ‘If it takes the pressure off you…’ and she tells me that to cheer herself up she’s going to take the duchess, powder-blue, linen drawstring dress by Joseph that’s in the stockroom.

  Of all the focking ATMs in this town… It’s taking its focking time spitting out the money as well. I know it’s them behind me, but I don’t know if they’ve copped me yet. He’s going, ‘You have to go away for the summer,’ and she’s like, ‘I’d be miserable,’ and he’s there, ‘But, like, your friends are going, we’re talking Emily, Kate, Harriet. It’s, like, Montauk. Who wouldn’t want to go?’ and she’s going, ‘Me. I’d rather spend the summer with you.’

  The machine finally coughs up the old folding green and I turn around, roysh, and try to keep my head down and slip into the Merrion Centre without them seeing my boat. It’s actually her who cops me. She’s like, ‘Huh, look who it is,’ and what can I do but turn around, roysh, and go, ‘Hey, Jessica. How’s it going, Pikey?’

  They don’t answer me, roysh, just look me up and down for a few seconds and then Jessica, like, links his orm, presumably to give me the message that they’re, like, back together and working things out, then they step forward and Pikey sticks his cord in the machine.

  As I walk away, he’s like, ‘I saw you piss your pants,’ and I stop, roysh, and I end up going, ‘Sorry?’ and he’s there, ‘On the internet. I saw you piss your pants. And cry like a little girl. It was very funny,’ and I just, like, nod and walk away. I suppose he’s entitled to his moment.

  I’m flaked out on the bed, roysh, flicking through the channels and I come to this, like, documentary and I actually stort watching it – going through one of my intellectual phases – and it’s all about this thing called the Oedipus Complex, roysh, which, according to this, I don’t know, psychologist or psychiatrist or whatever, means that every goy basically wants to kill his old man and, like, marry his old dear. But I actually don’t, roysh. I want to kill my old man and my old dear.

  I don’t know if they have a name for that, roysh, but I actually feel the urge pretty focking strongly half-an-hour later when my old dear has the basic focking cheek to ring me and go, ‘Ross, it’s wonderful news about you and Sorcha,’ and I’m there, ‘What focking business is it of yours?’ and she’s like, ‘I knew it. I knew you two would come to your senses. I called into the shop to see her today. Oh, she’s so happy about it, Ross.’

  I’m there, ‘Is that everything? I’m getting focking bored with this conversation,’ and she goes, ‘Oh, the photo shoot. You never asked me how it went,’ and I’m like, ‘That’s because this focking calendar isn’t happening,’ and she goes, ‘The photographer – he’s a neighbour of Sally’s – he really put me at my ease,’ and I’m there, ‘This is a focking mare. I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation,’ and she goes, ‘Sally thought my hair would look nicer up, to help emphasize my–’ and I’m like, ‘Don’t even focking think about saying that word,’ and I just cut her off, roysh, and ten seconds later my phone rings, but it’s not her again, it’s actually Sorcha.

  She goes, ‘What’s wrong, Ross? You sound like you’re hyperventilating,’ and I’m there, ‘This focking calendar. I swear to God, Sorcha…’ and she goes, ‘Oh, yeah. Your mum called into the shop today,’ and I’m like, ‘I’m actually going to
be a focking laughing-stock if this thing happens,’ but she goes, ‘Why a laughing-stock? Your mother’s a very attractive woman, Ross. You must have noticed,’ and I’m like, ‘Uuuh, no?’ and she goes, ‘She is, though. I hope I look that well when I’m her age. She was telling me she tied her hair up, so as to emphasize her–’ and I’m there, ‘I don’t want to focking hear it. I swear to God, I seriously think I’m going to spew…’

  She goes, ‘You are, like, totally overreacting, Ross. It’s like, OH! MY! GOD!’ and I’m there, ‘What, because I don’t like the idea of blokes in, I don’t know, factories and garages looking at my old dear and… Ugh, I don’t even want to think about it,’ and she goes, ‘Well, I think it’s about time you grew up. Anyway, do you mind if we cancel the cinema tonight?’ and I’m there, ‘Fine, why?’ and she’s like, ‘Oh, I’m going to Finnegan’s,’ and I’m there, ‘With who?’ and she’s like, ‘Erika.’

  So of course I’m there, ‘Erika? What is it, like, a clear-the-air thing?’ and she goes, ‘Clear the air? What are you talking about?’ and I’m like, ‘Well, that day in the shop… she was a total bitch to you,’ and she goes, ‘HELLO? She’s still one of my best friends, Ross.’

  6. Bricks and Mortar

  Ryle’s off with his RTÉ mates, roysh, knocking back glasses of – I kid you not – white wine, and me and the goys are just sitting there, roysh, saying how much the dude has changed. An hour into the evening, roysh, he finally decides to focking grace us with his company and the first thing he says is, ‘What the fock did you goys do to my cousin?’

  Oisinn goes, ‘Hey, some of us went to Israel and managed not to come back as religious freaks,’ which I actually think is a bit out of order, roysh, because it’s only, like, God he’s into. Ryle goes, ‘But a priest?’ and Oisinn’s there, ‘Yeah, we’re still trying to work out what the angle is. I suppose the wedge is decent enough. Free cor. Free rent,’ and of course I bring half of focking Kiely’s to a standstill by going, ‘Maybe it’s, like, genuine?’

  Ryle’s like, ‘Explain,’ and I’m there, ‘I’m just saying, that’s all. Maybe the dude found God,’ and Oisinn straight away, roysh, goes, ‘Well, his kicking must have improved then because he couldn’t find the focking touchline when he played for us,’ which is horseshit, roysh, because the dude was an unbelievable fullback, but it’s a decent line, roysh, and well worth a high-five.

  Ryle sort of, like, waves his empty glass at me, hinting, I suppose, that he wants another, but I’m focked if I’m asking the borman for the shit he’s drinking. I have a rep in this joint.

  He looks at Oisinn and goes, ‘Well, personally, I think he’s flipped his lid. I mean take a look at this,’ and he shows us this, like, text message. Actually, it’s an unbelievable phone – he must be on some focking wedge. Anyway, roysh, apparently he texted JP earlier and asked did he fancy coming out tonight for a few scoops – scoops obviously being a focking joke in Ryle’s case – and what he got back was: Be careful that your heart is not weighed down with dissipation, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, for that day will close on you unexpectedly like a trap. Luke 21:34. I mean, what can we do when Ryle shows it to us, roysh, only shake our heads. No one can say that kind of shit is roysh.

  Oisinn asks me to come up to the bor with him and, like, help him carry his round back, and I guess it’s because he wants a word on the QT. When we’re up there, roysh, he gets the round in and I notice that his orm is burned. I ask him what the Jackanory is and he says there was another explosion in his old man’s shed last week, roysh, he mixed two or three things in the wrong doses – Tonka bean, persimmon and Gaiac wood were mentioned – stuck a flame under it and ended up stripping two layers of skin off his orm.

  ‘But,’ he goes, ‘that’s what I wanted to tell you. The good news is, it’s finished,’ and I’m there, ‘The Eau d’Affluence?’ and he’s like, ‘They’re paying me a million sheets for it, Ross,’ and I’m there, ‘Who?’ and he goes, ‘Hugo Boss. I told you a year ago they were interested in buying it from me,’ and I’m like, ‘Yeah, but I thought that was in the same way that Christian is writing the next three Star Wars movies and I’m going to be Ireland’s next number ten,’ in other words, total BS.

  He goes, ‘No, I’ve been sending samples over to New York as I’ve gone along. Anyway, they’ve sent over one of their reps,’ and I sort of, like, raise my eyebrows, and he goes, ‘Giselle Lewisohn. We’re talking hot here, Ross. The spit of Rachel Bilson. Manhattanite. Trouser suit. Lips that could suck a focking snooker ball up twenty metres of Wavin pipe,’ and I can’t help myself, roysh, I end up going, ‘Cool.’

  But Oisinn’s not a happy camper. He goes, ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You can wipe that look off your face, Ross. She’s coming here, as in tonight, as in any minute now and I want you on your best behaviour.’

  I’m there, ‘Why the fock would you bring her here?’ and he goes, ‘She sort of, like, invited herself. Asked me what I was doing tonight, then said she’d come along too, have a drink, celebrate doing business. But she doesn’t take shit, this bird. She’s going back to New York to get the contracts drawn up. I don’t want you ruining it by trying to cop off with her by commenting on her top tens.’

  I’m actually a bit insulted. I’m there, ‘I’m actually a bit insulted, Oisinn. How come none of the other goys are getting this lecture?’ and he goes, ‘Do you want me to remind you of your previous in this area?’ and I’m like, ‘No need. Message understood,’ and he goes, ‘Cool. I mean, I can’t promise I’m not going to make a move on her myself.’

  We come back with the drinks and Ryle looks pretty pissed off that there isn’t one for him. He can ask focking George Hamilton or Wardy to get one in for him, if that’s what he’s into. He asks Oisinn what happened to his orm and Oisinn tells him about the explosion, then goes, ‘A million sheets buys a hell of a lot of plastic surgery,’ and Christian goes, ‘You could actually get a mechanical one for that,’ and as usual, roysh, it’s a real, like, conversation-stopper. Everyone just, like, looks at him and he goes, ‘Luke Skywalker got one, 2–1B fitted it,’ and we all go, ‘Oh, yeah, roysh,’ because he’s the last goy in the world whose feelings you’d want to hurt.

  The next thing, roysh, who arrives over to us only JP’s old man and fair focks to him, roysh, there’s a lounge bird behind him carrying a tray of drinks with a full round on it, even one for Ryle, who I suppose is his nephew. He goes, ‘Hello there, chaps. No sign of himself tonight, no?’ and I’m there, ‘He said he was staying in to do some reading and, like, meditation,’ and he’s like, ‘Meditation? Yeah, I’d one myself before I left the house, but it’s done nothing to lessen my drive,’ and his eyes sort of, like, sweep the old battle-cruiser and fix on this bird who’s just walked in the door and I know straight away from Oisinn’s description that it’s this Giselle bird. And you can imagine Oisinn’s face, roysh, when the goy turns around and shouts at her, ‘Whoa! Sit on my face and I’ll guess your weight!’ as she’s looking around, trying to pick Oisinn out.

  He ducks out of the way, roysh, because obviously he doesn’t want her knowing that came from his group, and she doesn’t actually see him and she turns left and storts looking around, but Kiely’s is focking rammers tonight and it’s pretty obvious, roysh, that it’s going to take her a few minutes to find us.

  JP’s old man goes, ‘Okay, you lot are JP’s friends. I’m going to level with you. I couldn’t give a shit if JP grew a beard, changed his name to Abraham and learned how to fart the chorus from ‘How Great Thou Art’ – as long as it doesn’t cost me money,’ and he all of a sudden spins around in my direction, roysh, and goes, ‘WHAT DO I HATE LOSING?’ and it’s just, like, a natural instinct, roysh, from the days when I worked for him, but I automatically go, ‘M.O.N.E.Y.’ and he’s like, ‘AND WHAT DOES IT SPELL?’ and I’m there, ‘HAPPINESS!’ and he goes, ‘That’s right. But right now, I’m not happy. I’ve lost my number one estate agent and it’s costing me M.O.N.E.Y
. – SLEEP!’

  Fionn goes, ‘Have you talked to him, told him how much Hook, Lyon and Sinker needs him?’ and he’s like, ‘He said that what we do is unchristian. He said that to make false or exaggerated claims about houses was immoral. Can you believe that? The little shit who christened Tullamore, The Gateway to Dublin, is offering me lessons in morality. I said to him, “You found something you’re good at. It paid for that apartment of yours, God damn it.” Know what he said? “Better to be poor than a liar.” It’s Proverbs 19–22 apparently,’ and I’m just there, like, shaking my head, wondering how anyone could treat their old man like that.

  He goes, ‘Okay, kids, the gloves are off. No rules anymore. Dirty is the name of the game. Your friend likes the broads, right?’ and Oisinn’s there, ‘Understatement of the century,’ and he goes, ‘That… is his Achilles’ Heel. How’s he going to get around the celibacy thing? Got a lot of strange desires that kid. Takes after his father. Should see some of the things his mother’s found under his bed over the years. She nearly had to phone a priest for him one time.’

  Oisinn’s, like, looking around him, and it’s pretty obvious he’s kacking it that something’s going to go wrong and I don’t actually blame him.

  I look at JP’s old man and I go, ‘So what are you actually saying?’ and he’s like, ‘What I’m saying is that you guys know a lot of girls. And if you were to, shall we say, put temptation his way, remind him what he’d be missing if he goes through with this crazy idea, then let’s just say that I’d be grateful.’

  We all just, like, nod, roysh, but I’m the one who asks the question that’s basically on the tip of our tongues. I’m like, ‘How grateful?’ and he, like, stares me straight in the eye and goes, ‘Ten thousand euro worth of grateful,’ and we’re all like, ‘Ten focking Ks?’