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Camino Royale
Ross O'carroll Kelly
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R480
R395
Discovery Miles 3 950
Save R85 (18%)
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Ships in 9 - 15 working days
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'The name's O'Carroll-Kelly. Ross O'Carroll-Kelly.' As the great
James Bond said, 'History isn't kind to men who play God.' How
right the dude ended up being. My secret double-life was finally
catching up with me. Sorcha wanted a divorce. I was facing jail
time for taking my orse out in a pub in Cork. And there was a very
good chance that my sister-in-law's surrogate baby was actually
mine? One by one, all of the goys turned their backs on me. Then
came an unexpected plot twist. From beyond the grave, Fr Fehily -
the M and the Q to our Leinster Schools Senior Cup-winning team -
sent us all on one final mission . . . To walk the Camino - or die
trying! It's, like, double oh fock!
So there I was, roysh, class legend, schools rugby legend,
basically all-round legend, when someone decides you can't, like,
sit the Leaving Cert four times. Well that put a focking spanner in
the works. But joining the goys at college wasn't the mare I
thought it would be, basically for, like, three major reasons:
beer, women and more women. And for once I agree with Fionn about
the, like, education possibilities. I mean, where else can you
learn about Judge Judy, laminating fake IDs and, like, how to order
a Ken and snog a girl at the same time? I may be beautiful, roysh,
but I'm not stupid and this much I totally know: college focking
rocks.
Ross O'Carroll-Kelly is broke and out of love. His wife has gone to
America, taking his daughter with him; his mother has become a
celebrity chef on daytime television, with a particular skill for
handling phallic ingredients; and his father continues to languish
in Mountjoy Jail. To cap it all, Immaculata, a Nigerian girl whom
Sorcha has been sponsoring by direct debit for fifteen years, has
turned up on his doorstep. Things couldn't get worse. But the long
road back begins high in the Pyrenees, in the tax haven of Andorra,
where Ross must spread the Gospel of rugby to the strange,
primitive natives who have only ever heard of soccer, skiing and
duty free shopping. There, he meets Conchita, a beautiful, sultry
psychoanalyst, who persuades him to look inwards and find out what
it is that makes him tick. Sorry, thick.
Ross O'Carroll-Kelly thought he knew all he needed to about women's
bodies ... So there I was, roysh, in a state of basically very
blissful ignorance, when suddenly Sorcha's up the Damien and I have
to listen to, like, women's stuff. And now he's getting a biology
lesson he could have SO lived without ... I am telling you, roysh,
I never even knew nipples could crack and I was very happy not
knowing it. I mean, all I knew about the whole scenario was six
seconds of seriously good loving, and now I'm basically expected to
be an expert on how to, like, breathe like Dorth Vader and deal
with baby turds. Sometimes, life just isn't fair to the babe magnet
supremo ... This is SO not good for my rep - but do you think
Sorcha even, like, cares about that? Not focking likely!
The No 1 Bestseller! 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 Kiely's 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!'
______________________________ 'The single greatest chronicler of
our times' Irish Independent 'A terrific collection' Pat Kenny,
Newstalk
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
So there I was, roysh, enjoying college life, college birds and,
like, a major amount of socialising. Then, roysh, the old pair
decide to mess everything up for me. And we're talking totally
here. Don't ask me what they were thinking. I hadn't, like, changed
or treated them any differently, but the next thing I know, roysh,
I'm out on the streets. Another focking day in paradise for me! If
it hadn't been for Oisinn's apartment in Killiney, the old man
paying for my Golf GTI, JP's old man's job offer and all the goys
wanting to buy me drink, it would have been, like, a complete mare.
Totally. But naturally, roysh, you can never be sure what life
plans to do to you next. At least, it came as a complete focking
surprise to me ... The life and times of Ross O'Carroll-Kelly, cult
hero.
So there I was, roysh, putting the 'in' in 'in crowd', hanging out,
pick of the babes, bills from the old pair to fund the lifestyle I,
like, totally deserve. But being a schools rugby legend has its
downsides, roysh, like all the total knobs wanting to chill in
your, like, reflected glory, and the bunny-boilers who decide they
want to be with me and won't take, like, no for an answer. And
we're talking totally here. Basically, it may look like a champagne
bath with, like, Nell McAndrew, with, like, no clothes and
everything, but I can tell you, roysh, those focking bubbles can
burst. And when they do ... OH MY GOD! Ross O'Carroll-Kelly is all
meat and no preservatives, roysh, at least, that's what it says in
the can in, like, one particular south Dublin girls' school, which
shall remain nameless, roysh, basically to protect the names of the
guilty. You know who you are. With a new introduction by Paul
Howard, Ross's representative on, loike, earth?
'Ireland's finest comic creation since Father Ted' Hot Press 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
'FUNNIEST YET!' IRISH EXAMINER A love affair born in rural Ireland!
Two mismatched lovers, locked in a relationship that will change
both of them . . . forever! Ross O'Carroll-Kelly was brought up to
believe that Gaelic games were invented for people too stupid to
understand the laws of rugby. Little did he know that one day he
would become a legend of Kerry football. But then, his life has
taken a lot of unexpected twists and turns. His father is the
Taoiseach of the country. His wife is an actual Government
Minister. And his suddenly teenage daughter is heading for the
Gaeltacht - and her very first rugby boyfriend. And then there's
Marianne . . . Of course, Ross was too busy becoming a Gaelic
football star to realise that his family - like the entire country
- was being pushed towards a cliff edge. And he was the only man
capable of saving Ireland's democracy. Which is just like,
'Fooooooock!' __________________________ 'I hope this series runs
for decades' BELFAST TELEGRAPH 'Ross is a national institution'
IRISH TIMES
I felt like I was living in a world teetering on the brink ... Life
as a stay-in-bed husband turned out to be a lot more complicated
than I expected. My wife was pregnant with a baby that possibly
wasn't mine. My old man was engaged in a war with the feminist
movement that he was never going to win. And my old dear was making
a lot of unexplained trips to Russia. Throw into the mix an eldest
son with a possible sex addiction and three infant sons who were so
thick they made me look like Edward Einstein. I might have actually
gone over the edge if it wasn't for the belief of my daughter and
the challenge of helping her win the greatest prize that South
Dublin has to offer - the Strictly Mount Anville glitter ball.
THE NUMBER ONE BESTSELLER SHORTLISTED FOR THE IRISH BOOK AWARDS
2021 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
South Dublin's favourite son thought he could face any challenge -
until he was asked to cross the bridge over the River Dargle. For
Ross O'Carroll-Kelly - schools rugby hero, celebrated bon vivant
and lover of beautiful women - life has suddenly become
complicated. His father has been accused of rigging a General
Election, his seventy-year-old mother is about to bring six
surrogate babies into the world, and his daughter is being hailed
as 'Ireland's answer to Greta Thunberg', telling everyone who cares
to listen that the end of the world is nigh. As if that wasn't bad
enough, the Greatest Rugby Player Never to Play for Ireland has a
nagging sense that he has to more to contribute to the beautiful
game. Now he's been offered a job coaching an underachieving school
who've been waiting almost a century for their moment of glory. The
challenge is to persuade a collection of jokers, chokers and
forty-a-day smokers that they have what it takes to win the
Leinster Schools Senior Cup. The only drawback ... the school is in
Bray! Praise for the Ross O'Carroll-Kelly series: 'Ross is a
national institution ... wicked humour and sharp observation' Irish
Times 'One of the funniest writers in the land' Irish Independent
'Extraordinarily accurate and outstandingly funny' Sunday Business
Post
So there I was, roysh, twenty-three years of age, still, like,
gorgeous and rich, living off my legend as a schools rugby player,
scoring the birds, being the man, when all of a sudden, roysh, life
becomes a total mare. I don't have a Betty Blue what's wrong, but I
can't eat, can't sleep, I don't even want to do the old beast with
two backs, which means a major problem, and we're talking big time
here. Normally my head is so full of, like thoughts, but now I'm
down to just one: Sorcha, I'm playing it Kool and the Gang, but
this is basically scary. I mean, I'm Ross O'Carroll-Kelly, for
fock's sake, I don't do love. With a new introduction by Paul
Howard, Ross's representative on, loike, earth.
'One of the funniest writers in the land ... Schmidt Happens will
be lapped up by fans' Irish Independent I've had some pretty bad
New Year's Eves in my life. But this one was officially... The!
Worst! Ever! My wife had just given birth to a baby that wasn't
mine. My son had just walked out on his bride-to-be on the eve of
their wedding. And my old dear was making threats of revenge
against me for allowing her to choke on the olive from her
breakfast Martini. Throw into the mix three infant sons who were
banned from every public park and children's play centre in the
city; a father who was working with dodgy Russian business
interests to put himself in the Taoiseach's office; and a daughter
who was about to do something truly shocking - even by her
standards. But then, one day, totally out of the blue, I received a
very unexpected phone call... And let's just say that Schmidt got
real. 'Ross is a national institution, and his adventures continue
to chart the foibles and fortunes of modern-day Dublin with wicked
humour and sharp observation' Irish Times 'Hilarious' Woman's Way
'Predictably fockin' brilliant' Hot Press It's the end of the world
as Ross knows it ... this time, there's no way of escaping another
monumental fock-up! Sorcha had thrown me out of the family home -
this time apparently for good. And yet that was the least of my
worries ... My old dear was in prison, accused of murdering her
second husband. My sons were showing an unhealthy interest in -
someone call social services - soccer! And my daughter wanted
everyone to call her Eddie. But don't even go there! On top of all
that, a blond wig discovered in a dusty attic, had given my old man
delusions of power. Suddenly, he was running for election,
promising to tear up the bailout deal and take Ireland out of
Europe. And that's to say nothing of his secret plan for Ireland's
second city ... But shush! Don't mention the wall! 'Our nation's
great satirist ... the most sustained feat of comic writing in
Irish literature' Irish Times
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