The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightdress by Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

Author:Ross O'Carroll-Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141925929
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2008-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

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We’re on the road to the airport, roysh, and though I was a bit, I don’t know, sceptical about coming here in the first place, I have to say, roysh, I had an amazing time, even just, like, learning about other cultures and shit? Last night – we’re talking Easter Sunday – I ended up being with a Spanish bird. There’s a big world out there and it’s full of birds who want to be with Ross O’Carroll-Kelly.

Fionn and Oisinn are saying their last goodbyes to the birds in the cor. Debra’s saying she wishes we’d had more time. She’s like, ‘I would have liked to take you to see the Mount of Olives,’ and Fionn goes, ‘Ross thought that was one of the EU food surpluses,’ and everyone cracks up laughing, roysh, but quick as a flash I go, ‘Fock you, Glasses Head,’ to which he has no answer and in fact it shuts everyone up.

Fionn’s got his video camera on his lap and I’m thinking he never focking stops, that goy, probably hoping to film a couple more, I don’t know, temples before we get to the airport. He tells Debra he’s coming back as soon as he finishes his PhD and he probably will, roysh, because, looking like that, he has to travel halfway around the world to get his rock and roll. Shifra, though, is getting her last look at Oisinn and she basically knows it.

So we’re pegging it along, roysh, and Shifra all of a sudden looks in her rear-view and goes, ‘Uh-oh! Police,’ and Debra’s like, ‘What speed were you doing?’ and Shifra’s there, ‘Well, I was well under. He flashed me, though. I should pull in,’ and she does, roysh, and I’m looking out the back wondering how she knew it was the cops, roysh, because it’s, like, an unmorked cor.

The next thing, roysh, these two goys get out and one of them’s got a serious-looking piece, which he points into the back of the people-carrier after reefing open the door. I swear to God, roysh, every basic drop of blood in my body goes cold when he turns around and goes, ‘Which one of you is Ross O’Carroll-Kelly?’ and before I get a chance to think of something, the rest of them land me roysh in it by, like, pointing at me.

The goy’s like, ‘Can you get out of the car, please?’ and I am seriously bricking it, roysh, because I just remembered fecking a towel and a pair of slippers from the hotel room – they’re not even for me, they’re a present for Sorcha – and I’m thinking it must have been a pretty expensive towel if the Feds are chasing us to the airport, and then suddenly I’m wondering, roysh, whether this is one of those countries where they, like, cut your focking Christian Andersens off for basically robbing shit.

I get out of the cor and put my hands above my head. He goes, ‘Ross O’Carroll-Kelly, did you place

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