Friends In No Places: Babbling Brooks and the theatre of shame
The ship heading towards Ireland contains a deadly consignment of country music. All week a giant flashing stetson was on the radar
In terms of tense international stand-offs, potentially presaging the end of the world, it was up there with the Bay of Pigs.
Except instead of nuclear warheads the ship heading toward Ireland contained a deadly consignment of country music. And instead of the end of the world we had slight bending of planning laws - which would obviously be unthinkable in Ireland - and potential violation of parking regulations for about one square mile to contend with.
Still the tension was unbearable; the eyes of the world were upon us, and for seven days all other news played second fiddle. Were we actually going to allow the man who brought the joys of clamping to Dublin - City manager Owen Keegan - to spoil the party for the honky tonk saviour and his friends in Hiaces?