Sean O'Hare
I'VE got a nickname, his name is Billy. He's the little prat I turn into when I've had upwards of five pints and my eyes glaze over. Some nights he overpowers me and charges out of his box like a tramp pestered by a wasp. Other nights I find myself coaxing him out. As a result, he doesn't know where he stands. The truth is, I can't make my mind up whether I like him or not.
Essentially he means well and can be fun to be around but he's far too carefree and self-destructive to fit in with right-minded individuals. I shan't mention any of his stunts because A: They don't deserve the attention and B: I'm not particularly proud of them. What I will say is that they have all gone some way to damaging my reputation as a nice guy. But perhaps that is the problem: Who wants to be known as a nice guy? Perhaps that is why I gave rise to this monster. Nice guys come last, didn't you know? Girls don't want nice guys sending them love notes and teddy bears soaked in their aftershave, oh no... Girls, let me tell you, want to be taken to an unlicenced fight and then ditched on the hard shoulder of the M4 for spilling hotdog onions on his leather seats. When I went to review a Neuro-Linguistic Practitioner trained in the art/science of reprogramming people, I told him about Billy the Trick to see if he could perform an exorcism. He got me to stand in the middle of his living room, imagine a picture of ol' Billy and then pretend to smash it by throwing imaginary balls, while making a 'smash' sound. Felt like a real clown, particularly as it didn't seem to work and he kept cupping his hand over his mouth and pretending to cough when I think he was actually laughing.
Anyway, in times like these, wholesome living is the only way forward, so I bought two pounds of neck of lamb from a butcher who let me watch him chop it up in the backroom, and then took it to my nan's who made it into a stew. Always perfectly seasoned, nan's dinners. She's Irish, you see. They love salt and pepper, the Irish. They also call the radio a wireless. Sat there with my cousin as she filled our plates. "Handsome", my cousin said, as we tucked in while