Ross O. Carroll Kelly Livres

So there I was, roysh, twenty-three years of age, still, like, gorgeous and rich ... when all of a sudden life becomes a total mare. With a new introduction by Paul Howard, Ross's representative on, loike, earth.

When a shameless rugby legend and a distinguished grey lady get together sparks are bound to fly. And when that legend is South Dublin's favourite socialite, Ross O'Carroll-Kelly, and the grey lady is the Irish Times, the result is, well, legendary. From locked-in in Donnybrook to locked-down in Killiney, Ross and the old gal have been through a lot. Now, you can enjoy the very best of his efforts to keep her entertained . . . - His adventures with the Mount Anville Moms WhatsApp group - His daughter Honor's infamous production of South Side Story - His father's court battles with Denis O'Brien - His wife Sorcha's efforts to force her banana bread on the neighbours - His son Ronan's attempt to make it as a Mixed Martial Arts fighter From the sheer joy of taking his feral triplets to their first Ireland v. England match, to the sheer misery of Kielys pub (his spiritual home) closing down, to the pants-shitting tension of taking Honor to Electric Picnic - they're all here! And this new edition includes all new material from 2021 - lest we forget! As the Grey Lady herself would no doubt say- 'That was some ride, Ross!'

"Ridicule is a ubiquitous feature of modern politics. Few participants in a political contest can resist the temptation to ridicule their opponents in order to demean them, persuade others to regard them with scorn, or expose their hypocrisy. Yet ridicule also has the potential to undermine the conditions necessary for politics itself, converting disputants into belligerents and debate into the silence of mutual disdain. Unsurprisingly, then, ridicule has not only been common in political debate but has often been at the centre of such debate as well. In contemporary debate, some commentators worry that citizens are reaching for ridicule and contemptuous dismissal at the expense of more earnest forms of political engagement. Theorists of deliberative democracy have warned that there might be something inherently uncivil, trivializing, or morally objectionable about the use of ridicule in political debate. Others are more inclined to accept that a society characterized by vibrant political contestation will not lack for ridiculers deriding, shaming, and insulting each other. They counsel that ridicule is more urgent, and necessary, now than ever, particularly as a weapon against authoritarian personalities who are least able to tolerate it. This book brings some much-needed historical contextualization to this debate by revisiting a moment in which the place of ridicule in politics was subjected to more intense theoretical scrutiny than any other: eighteenth-century Britain. The relaxing of censorship and deregulation of the printing trade in the 1690s led to an explosion of political and religious satires, many of which were mobilized in the political contest over the recently passed Toleration Act. This new vogue for ridicule led numerous critics to warn that indulging in it excessively could disfigure one's character, undermine religion, and sow civil discord. But ridicule also had vocal defenders, none more influential than the Third Earl of Shaftesbury. Far from merely accepting ridicule as the unfortunate by-product of free public debate, Shaftesbury defended the "trial of ridicule" as a useful method for exposing the conceitedness of fanatics and overly zealous clerics, the two groups most threatening to toleration. From David Hume to Mary Wollstonecraft, Carroll traces Shaftesbury's impact, examining how the Earl's many followers and critics throughout the eighteenth century responded to the challenge of using ridicule responsibly in political and religious controversy"-- Provided by publisher

My friend, Fionn, was being held hostage in, I don't know, Unganga Nanga, and the Government was refusing to send in a team of marines to extract him. Pack of focking cauliflower worriers ... I wouldn't have minded being bound and gagged in a basement - just for some peace and quiet. My wife was up the spout again. My daughter had grown into a mix between Suri Cruise and a Chucky doll. And one or two other chickens - well, birds - were coming home to roost. Suddenly, I realized what I had to do - go and get Fionn back. Except what I didn't realize was that Unganga Nanga was no country for old tens.

THE NUMBER ONE BESTSELLER Ireland, Ireland - no longer standing Dáil ... Leinster House had been burned to the ground. All that was left was a smouldering ruin and the blackened remains of an Irish flag. The old man was trying to pin the blame on Brussels, but I knew the actual truth? Unfortunately, Sorcha was too angry with me for having sex with our daughter's Irish teacher to listen. But I had, like, other irons in the - pordon the pun - fire. I'd just become Head Coach of the Ireland rugby team - albeit, women. The country might well have been focked. But very soon, we had everyone believing in fairy tales again. And it all happened once upon a time in . . . Donnybrook _______ 'Ross is a national institution' Irish Times 'In a league of his own' Business Post

Shrewsbury Road has become a ghost estate. Marks and Spencer are selling microwavable coddle. And a Euro discount store is about to open in the Powerscourt Townhouse Centre. And he was only unconscious for twenty-four hours. But never mind all that. The main thing is that whoever tried to kill him missed all his vital organs. All his vital organs.

I was a rugby player with a great future behind me. A 35-year-old father-of-five with an expanding waistline, who was trying to survive the bloody battlefield we call life. My son was locked in a violent turf war with a rival Love/Hate tour operator, my daughter was in love with a boy who looked like Justin Bieber, and my old dear was about to walk up the aisle with a 92-year-old billionaire who thought it was still 1936.I was, like, staring down the barrel of middle age with the contentment of knowing that I was the greatest Irish rugby player who no one in Ireland had ever actually heard of. Until a chance conversation with an old Jesuit missionary made me realize that it wasn't enough.I was guided, as if by GPS, to a muddy field in - let's be honest - Ballybrack. And there I finally discovered my destiny - to keep a struggling Seapoint team in Division 2B of the All Ireland League.Or die trying.'Hides a heart of darkness beneath the layers of craic and great gas and great story-telling and human warmth. Ross O'Carroll-Kelly is Ireland!' Irish Times'A cracking and hilariously witty read' Irish Independent'Book after book, Ross O'Carroll-Kelly delivers the goods ... Howard is in a league of his own' Sunday Business Post

That risk assessor ex of Sorcha's turned out to be right - it really was the end of the world as we knew it ...See, I thought the porty was going to last forever. I certainly didn't believe the current economic blahdy blah was going to affect people like me. But as I watched the shutters fall, one by one, on all my old haunts - Renards, Mint, Guess Meanswear - I was forced to question all the truths that I once held as sacred.Sorcha's boutique was bleeding me dry, the Deportment of Social Welfare had stuck two yahoos in the penthouse next door, while Oisinn - his business empire in ruins - hadn't been seen since he porked his cor at Dublin Airport and took off for who knows where.'Isn't it wonderful?' the old man went. 'Times like these, they bring out the best in people like us.'But just when I thought the recession couldn't get any worse, an unexpected twist in the tale threatened to take away the most precious thing in the world to me.

The century is not yet a teenager, yet everything is shrouded in gloom . . . People are tightening their belts, rationing and making do. Across Europe, there is uncertainty, with the possibility of, like, serious conflict hanging in the air. Yet, amidst the splendour of Honalee - a mock-something-or-other mansion in Killiney that we recently inherited - life goes on. The world is changing quickly - especially for me. As I stare down the barrel of middle age, I've decided that it's time to possibly do right by Sorcha and put our marriage back together. But I have even bigger challenges to face. My son has hitched his future to a family of commoners, my old dear is involved in a love affair that threatens disgrace for the family, and my daughter has turned into the worst little madam you can imagine. Oh, yeah, and I'm about to become a grandfather at 31. As Sorcha embraces her new life of afternoon teas on fine bone china plates and Downton Abbey theme porties, I'm suddenly wrestling with duty, loyalty and the thousands of women out there who still desire the pleasure of my company. Praise for Ross O'Carroll-Kelly: 'Unremittingly funny.' RTÉ Guide 'To borrow a great critic's phrase about the rugby player Paul O'Connell: if you are what you eat then Paul Howard must have been eating a focking legend. (The great critic was Ross O'Carroll-Kelly.).' Irish Times 'Will leave your cheeks hurting from laughing' Irish Farmers.' Monthly

A love affair born in rural Ireland! Two mismatched lovers, locked in a relationship that will change both of them ... forever!From the day I was born, I was brought up to believe that Gaelic games were invented for people too stupid to understand the laws of rugby. Little did I know that one day I would become a legend of Kerry football.But then my life has taken a lot of unexpected twists and turns.My old man is, like, the Taoiseach of the country. My wife is an actual Minister in his Government. And my suddenly teenage daughter is heading for the Jailtacht - and her very first rugby boyfriend.And then there's Marianne ...Of course, I was too busy becoming a Gaelic football stor to realise that my family - like the entire country - was being pushed towards a cliff edge. And I was the only man capable of saving Ireland's democracy.Which is just like, 'Fooooooock!''Ross is a national institution' Irish Times'When the literary history of the 21st century is written, it will record that a cartoon rugger bugger stole the hearts of the Irish people' Sunday Times