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.

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?

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.

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

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.

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.

Sportsman. Lover. Bon viviant. Cad. Ross O'Carroll-Kelly is many things to many people. But ten years after he lifted the Leinster Schools Senior Cup, Ireland's most beloved rogue remains one of its most misunderstood figures. His accomplishments on the rugby field - and in the bedroom - remain the stuff of legend, but the truth about him remains hidden by the accretion of myth. Now, for the first time, the lid is lifted on the enigma that is South Dublin's most eligible married man. In more than a hundred interviews with his family and friends - those who've loved him, hated him and slept with him - the first ever composite portrait of the Celtic Tiger's most famous cub emerges. From the mother who didn't want him to the father who wanted him too much, from the friends who shared his misadventures to the women who shared his bed - or, failing that, a back alley or bus shelter - this searingly honest biography fills in all the blanks in the life of the self-styled Cock of Foxrock. 'One-liners are as sharp as ever' Irish Independent 'You'll look at Ross O'Carroll-Kelly in a whole new light ... highly enjoyable' Sunday Tribune 'Always a funny, sharp and humane writer' Irish 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

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!

'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

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

'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

'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

'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