On a night of hilarity with Graham Norton he revealed that his mother has her plans already in hand, courtesy of family ties in the north of Ireland, to get him a British passport so he can become a ‘Sir.’
I think he’s already one up on being a ‘Sir’ though, as he regaled us with the story of how when he was bored working as a waiter he used to put a blue and white tea towel over his head and perform his Mother Theresa monologue. Clearly our he-devil he is destined for more angelic ennoblement – and my photo of the man last night proves it. Either that if he overdid the Readybrek!
And in his own words:
On living in a hippy commune in California- ‘like there are economic vegetarians, who can’t afford meat, I was an economic hippy, I couldn’t afford rent.’
‘My Mother Theresa was Irish, essentially she was my mother and full of tough love.’
‘There’s a lot of food in Ireland – finally.’
‘Is it an Irish thing that you can’t go to bed hungry?’
‘I sliced my finger off when I was washing my Irish Man of the Year award.’
On writing and his novel, Holding:
His sister has yet to read the novel because ‘there’s so many good books to read.’
‘It would be good if everyone stopped writing, so we can catch up on reading.’
‘It’s just you and the book and nothing gets between you and the page.’
‘Fuck, I forgot to write The End.’
But now for me it is the end of Writer’s Week, 2017. I’m looking forward to a romping sequel in 2018.