Donal Lynch: 'In striking power coats and ferocious shades, Melania's poise is hard to resist'
It was, in the end, the Trump trip most of us had secretly hoped for. Probably we disapprove of him, nobody has been digging up ancestors or naming...
It was, in the end, the Trump trip most of us had secretly hoped for. Probably we disapprove of him, nobody has been digging up ancestors or naming...
It's late afternoon in beautifully bucolic Hampshire, and from her office in the grounds of Highclere Castle - where they film Downton Abbey -...
The American bunting flutters festively above Doonbeg's main street and the buzz around Donald Trump's imminent visit is palpable.
In the aftermath of the election comes the sobering reality. Whatever the promises made by the various parties, all face a country dealing with several fronts of crisis. Much has been made of the...
It's been an interesting few months for Ray D'Arcy.
It is the small hours outside a popular suburban nightspot and Bill McCann, a sometime bar manager and facilitator with alcohol.ie, which has worked behind the scenes with the bar, club and hotel industry for more than 20 years, has been called to the venue to help in the management of the hordes of young people who arrive and leave in various states of inebriation.
The entrance hall to Niall Morris's Grand Canal Dock penthouse is dotted with little mementoes of his glittering music career.
It's Friday evening in Ranelagh and the after-work crowd is boisterously downing that first, sweet drink of the weekend. Their TD, Kate O'Connell, is on the coffee, however - one paltry drink hardly seems worth her while. "If I'm going to go for a drink I prefer to go for six," she laughs. "My hangover time is precious. Sometimes I just have to play dead."
Professor Niall Tubridy knows the look all too well. After all, it only happens "every hour or so". He'll be in the middle of explaining a treatment plan to a patient when they'll begin to observe him in a slightly glazed way. And, when he's finished talking, the first question will be: "Any chance of tickets to the show?"
It's been a bad night, and something of a bad week for Eamon Dunphy. People have been wondering where he is at this pivotal moment in Irish soccer, he says.
September, 2018. It's the night of the Mr Ireland competition in Dublin, and Galway man Wayne Walsh has just been crowned the fairest of them all.
In a sense there is something comforting about the scrap between Jeff Bezos and The National Enquirer. It shows that blogging is back - you just need something interesting to write about.
The revision about the women at the centre of the biggest news stories of the 1990s goes on. The People v. OJ Simpson shamed us for the way we all reduced Marcia Clarke to her frizzy haircut. I,...
The clock is ticking - for Brexit and, perhaps more importantly for rugby fans, the World Cup in Japan.
Streaks of fake tan on the bouncing castle. A pop-up charity shop overflowing with tulle, lace, chiffon and tiny jackets with rosettes. Princess packages and elaborate plaits at the local hair salon. Day drinking for parents, fizzy drinks and tantrums for their offspring. And of course: More kitschy ornaments than you'd get on a visit to Knock. It must be Holy Communion season.
It's a big week for Maura Derrane. She's in Cork to judge the 'most stylish lady' competition at Mallow Races. Her chat show, which she hosts with Daithi O Shea, has defied the dreaded 'curse' of the time slot - its popularity has continued to climb and RTE have said the show will be extended by half an hour.
Storm Hannah whipped her way around Grand Canal Dock last Friday night but Ireland's most-stylish VIPs came prepared. As they emerged on to the red carpet at the Marker Hotel for the Style Awards, not a hair was out of place.
It was cheesy 1980s military drama Top Gun that popularised the term wingman here. It meant your friend, who would put up with a lot, so you could get the shift. In Baz Ashmawy's new series, a wingman has nothing to do with scoring, however. He is, instead, a kind of brotherly cheerleader to members of the public with something missing from their lives, whether that's a stymied...
Author John Boyne has spoken about the threats that caused him to leave social media last week.
There is a particular breed of Dublin rugby schoolboy.
'If Hawaiian shirts looked incongruous in Mass, they were not as out of place as a teenager in a coffin...'
'When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions," Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet. For Alan and Anthony Mulligan, a pair of filmmaking brothers from Charlestown, Co Mayo, the last few years have seen an incredible series of unfortunate events, which derailed their lives.
Joanne McNally has the aura of a teenager returning from a festival. She sits impishly amid a nest of bags. The pink hair is tied back. She's tired. A glass of wine would help. "This is how I live now, I'm like a hobo," she explains between sips. "I'm touring around - I'm going to Australia next - so there's no point in me taking out a lease. I stay with whoever will let me have their couch. Vogue and Spencer have been amazing."
There is a reason Ardal O'Hanlon called his new tour The Showing Off Must Go On. Because in rural Ireland, whence he came, that was the very worst thing anyone could do. "I remember one time my mother made spaghetti bolognese and she told us not to tell anyone in case the neighbours thought we had notions, like 'the O'Hanlons have gone all Italian, next they'll be opening chippers!' It was...
From Brian O'Driscoll to Sonia O'Sullivan, most of Ireland's sporting icons enjoy a retirement at home where they can bask in the nostalgic glow of their achievements. But not all of them.
If wealth in broader society is concentrated in the hands of a lucky few, the entertainment industry contains an even more stark divide between rich and poor. While most actors, singers and authors live a fairly hand-to-mouth existence - witness Booker nominee Donal Ryan admitting he was thinking of returning to the day job in the civil service - the elite in these professions are some of the wealthiest individuals in the country.
The conventional wisdom in sports is that the big money is in a squeaky clean image which makes the tattooed, swearing, multimillionaire Conor McGregor all the more remarkable. The Crumlin man made almost his entire fortune from a lucrative payday with Floyd Mayweather in Las Vegas, which rated as the biggest sporting event of 2017.
What is it about Saoirse Ronan? She should make us, as a nation, beyond proud. Last week alone she is being discussed as a possible Oscar contender for Mary Queen of Scots and there are rumours of her hosting the event itself.
Brian Gleeson was a little boy of about seven when he first became aware of what his father did. It was the mid-1990s and Braveheart was being cast. Brendan Gleeson, until then a respected but mainly local actor, was hoping to make the leap into the Hollywood stratosphere, but everything was dependent on a call from the film’s director and star, Mel Gibson.
When Elijah Rowen (25) and Jack McEvoy (24) first laid eyes on each other at the Gaiety School of Acting they were sure the competition had arrived. "He's like the 'you' of the year below us," friends told Elijah, who bristled, feeling "there was definitely only room for one me".
Are you lonely this Christmas, Elvis asks every year. Mostly it's one of those festive songs that makes me retch slightly at its syrupy sentimentality. But for one Christmas, exactly 10 years ago, the desolate sound of it drifting over the speakers in a nearly deserted Manhattan mall, dissolved my grinchiness and made me understand that there really is a point to the presents and family...
How did we not know, you wonder. When Home Alone first appeared on screens, 27 years ago next week, and instantly became as much a part of Christmas as It's A Wonderful Life and Fairytale of New York, we ought really to have suspected there would be some casualties.
Irish patients with Motor Neurone Disease (MND) may soon be treated with medications originally intended for long-term HIV treatment.
The imminent closure of Lillie's Bordello is, perhaps, inevitable in the overall context of the death of the Irish nightclub. Over the last decade, the capital's once-vibrant club scene has given way to a nightlife which is divided into pubs - sacrosanct social spaces that legislators mess with at their peril - and illegal after-parties which mop up what's left of that timeless need to "go on".
'So… am I everything you imagined?" Sarah Silverman asks as she curls up in an oversized armchair at the Merrion Hotel. I want to say yes, but, in fact, she seems a little too much on the money of the Sarah Silverman brand to be quite real: that slightly helium-inflected voice, the whimsical woman-child musings, the winsome body language - it's all so perfectly observed you half-wonder if she's an impersonator. Yes! My God, you are onto me, the real her is much surlier," she laughs. "Don't tell anyone: I'm her body double, I do all her interviews, while she sleeps."
There aren't too many Irish sisters who have made a real mark in the pop world. Edele and Keavy Lynch from B*Witched spring to mind as exceptions, along with the Corr sisters, Sharon, Caroline and Andrea. Meabh and Mella Carron may not have yet achieved the same renown yet as those illustrious siblings, but their infectious pop songs and tight vocal harmonies have garnered them a huge online following and seen them described as a sort of Celtic Fleetwood Mac.
Hollywood comedy star John C Reilly has hit back at what he says is racism directed at him because he is of Irish descent.
It's early afternoon at Three Mills Studios in East London and the building is swarming with radically coiffed and pierced young performers, practising their scales in hallways and anxiously flicking through scripts at canteen tables.
Gossip is one of those words that has unjustly bad associations. For most of us, it's a guilty pleasure, an unseen workplace current that runs counter to carefully cc-ed emails and corporate messaging. At a media level, gossip columnists, despite being some of the hardest-working pros in the business, are considered by the general public to be the tackier counterparts of, say, investigative or business...
It feels, doesn't it, a bit like a new era of free love. A bit like that small, fabled window of time between the sexual revolution of the 1960s and the Aids panic of the 1980s. Thanks, in part, to PREP and PEP (the pre- and post-HIV-exposure treatments) it's as though death no longer looms and sex is not only free but super-powered by dating apps and porn.
Once a mainstay of Hollywood, the Western genre seemingly faded away in the late 1960s. In the last few decades, several filmmakers have made concerted efforts to keep the tales of the Wild, Wild West alive, in both traditional and non-traditional ways.
Chilling Adventures Of Sabrina 2 seasons Available Friday
On the face of it the Westlife comeback, which was announced this week, is about as welcome as a herpes outbreak or the re-emergence of the housing bubble. For many music fans, the announcement had the whiff of a Halloween scare about it.
'Things are better than they've ever been," Steven Pinker tells me, firmly, at the beginning of our conversation to promote his upcoming talk at the Abbey theatre in Dublin. "And to some people that is a radical statement."
It's every interviewer's worst nightmare. Not the walk out - those can be fabulous colour after all - but its evil cousin, the 'walk along'. As in 'walk along beside me and we'll do the interview on the street'. It's an approach that works best for embattled politicians on the brink of resignation, TV news gotchas and other interviews where it's generally understood that the subject is being flayed...
You know you've made it very big when even memes about you go viral. Since last weekend, a clip created by YouTube user Gabriel Gundacker, featuring a song he wrote called Zendaya is Meechee, has racked up five million hits, prompting stars like Seth Rogen to tweet his approval, The New York Times called it 'the first post-vine vine'. The clip, which references Zendaya's role in the forthcoming animated film Smallfoot, was priceless marketing for Warner Brothers and also won the approval of its young protagonist. "Sang my name right and everything," the actress shared on Twitter, with...
Have you ever had a creeping feeling that your home is just about to turn into a hotel?
Emma Stone is gearing up for a big autumn, The Oscar winner has linked up with Yorgos Lanthimos for The Favourite, and she's also headlining this: Netflix's ambitious new original mini-series. It's directed by Cary Fukunaga, and reunites Stone with Superbad alumnus Jonah Hill.
Finally this week the temperatures started to drop, the nip in the air was discernible, and, after the cultural dustbowl of the long, hot summer, the season of mellow fruitfulness bore something we could all gorge on: some half-decent television.
Martin Conmey and Dick Donnelly are a pair of old timers, who share an easy rapport. Dick is confined to a wheelchair. Martin helps him navigate the ramps into a Dublin hotel, and relays the conversation into Dick's good ear.
In the end, it was hard to believe that one little old man could be the receptacle for so much reverence, protest and outrage. It wasn't just that, like Dougal in Father Ted, you felt sure he should be "a bit taller" (although this turned out to be quite diplomatic on his part - no looming over Michael D), it was that now, as the Pope moved among us, the endless pomp and circumstance of the visit seemed, at times, like a highly sanctioned and structured form of elder cruelty.
President Michael D Higgins and Pope Francis conversed in Spanish during his visit to Aras an Uachtarain.
It was a moment on a par, perhaps, with Eva Peron's famous speech on the balcony in Buenos Aires which began with the immortal phrase "We the shirtless". As the preliminary results in Lahore showed that Imran Khan's party was decisively ahead in the Pakistani elections, the 65-year-old former cricket star and playboy addressed the nation on television, outlining what he would do as prime minister.
It can be hard, given the sheer volume of talk telly, to rise above the din of endless blather.
The young man always stands out in Dr Gillian O'Brien's memory. "He was just 19 at the time of his suicide attempt, a really serious overdose, and he'd ended up in hospital in Dublin," O'Brien, a clinical psychologist, recalls.
It's a sweltering afternoon and on a quiet London side street, outside an impossibly chic bakery (it's where Meghan and Harry had their wedding cake made), academic, author and former-model Emma Dabiri is taking a well-earned break from working on the final manuscript for her forthcoming book: Don't Touch My Hair.
The phone line crackles and sputters and several time zones away, Australian DJ-turned-actress Ruby Rose prepares herself for yet another 12-minute slice of promo. Phone interviews haven't always been her friend - she's described in the past how the handsets have given her skin problems - but today she's eager, above all else, to get the word out about The Meg, a nautical action film which is a...
Fiction has never been a particular friend of high finance. Even before banker-bashing became common currency, literature saved a special scorn for the emotionless financier, from Emile Zola's L'Argent to Bret Easton Ellis's American Psycho. And, if reader empathy for the wizards of Wall Street is an issue, it also takes a particular set of writing skills to distil the inherent dryness of white...
Anxiety is now the most common mental health difficulty affecting Irish youth today - and job instability and short-term contracts are among the factors stressing young people.
It's difficult to picture Scarlett Johansson as a man. Tiny, voluptuous and very feminine, she lacks the slightly androgynous qualities that made actresses like Felicity Huffman and Hilary Swank so successful in transgender roles. But Johansson is also a very good actress, who has won Baftas, Tonys and film critic awards.
People in Ireland love to laugh, the comedian Kevin Hart once said, before adding that we also love broad comedy.
We're that far into the heatwave now that it seems legitimate to fantasise that this is not just a warm spell but permanent climate change.
England's 'stately homo', Quentin Crisp, once said that "if you simply wait long enough in this life, you will find yourselves having travelled from the outskirts of acceptability to the very heart of society".
It's the hottest day of the year and, despite the number of parks and green spaces in Dublin, the epicentre of the city's summer cool now appears to be Grand Canal Dock. This is the fault line of old and new Dublin - most graphically evidenced by the redevelopment of Boland's Mill - a slickly designed modern interior belying its historic facade.
Good Girls Available on Tuesday
Pride, one look around Dublin at the moment will tell you, has gone from counter-culture to corporate in the blink of an eye.
The little lots of memorabilia look strangely touching; nothing dates like sporting equipment, but equally nothing is quite as redolent of youth. To the naked eye, they were just a battered looking tennis racket and a few tatty whites. But if you grew up in the 1980s, these pieces of Boris Becker's old kit were relics of sporting nostalgia.
It was the lavish refurbishments, rather than any particular apparition in the sky, that gave the people of Knock the impression they were in for The Second Papal Coming.
It felt like the dancers should have worn black lingerie - as a respectful sign of mourning - but at Peter Stringfellow's eponymous club just off Leicester Square it was business as usual last week.
Looking back, author Heather Chaplin sometimes wonders: "who was that person?"
The idea bubbled up, unbidden, from the recesses of Pauline Bewick's subconscious and onto the canvas: A man holding a baby. An image of fatherhood. Simple, beautiful, quietly moving and so different from her usual motifs of motherhood, she says. She wondered if it was in some way "predictive".
You know a story has gone global when Kay Burley sweeps into town to cover it. Sky's doyenne of live news has come to Ireland to ascertain the mood in the hours before the referendum vote and, as she travels from Co Clare to Dublin, sees "a divide between the city and country" and reckons the vote is "going to be incredibly tight" - predictions loudly contradicted by the exit polls a few hours later.
We've still got it, Europe. That, mainly, was what Eurovision 2018 seemed to prove. Economists talk earnestly about wage increases or housing being the last piece of the recovery puzzle, but those in the know understand that Ireland will never be back where she was until she can power ballad the rest of the continent into submission, as she did in the 1990s.
Cargo (2018) Available Friday
Six months ago, a group of friends rounded on me in a bar and demanded I go to England with them for the royal wedding. They had already booked their tickets, they told me, and the plan was to get up early on the Saturday and get the train from London to Windsor for the parade itself. It would be silly, camp, drunken fun, they assured me, and we'd be witnessing a little bit of history.
You wouldn't guess that it's been "the toughest week in a long time" for Claire Byrne. Though a vomiting bug laid waste to her young household, the presenter seems as crisply poised and polished as ever, as she strolls through the spring sunlight toward the RTE canteen.
The woman with the loud American accent leans against the railings of the park and sobs into the phone. "You could open the stove from the bed," she tells whoever is listening. "For €1,500 a month. Is this how I'm going to have to live?"
In the spring of 2008 RTE radio was lit up by one the most riveting interviews that had been broadcast in a long time. Marian Finucane was speaking to her good friend Nuala O'Faolain about the latter's diagnosis with terminal cancer. In the interview the Are You Somebody? author delivered a heartfelt and, at times, heartbreaking meditation on death and dying, scything through the worn-out cliches around the subjects.
Earlier this year, I went on Claire Byrne Live, to talk about the upcoming referendum.
There was a time, not that long ago, when the word gig still held a certain rock star resonance. When I got my first writing job, a year after college, my friends and I proudly trumpeted that now I had a gig, as opposed to something as tediously permanent and pensionable as a career. We were children of the Celtic Tiger and we took a lot for granted.
'Is this genetic?" Ten years ago this month that sentence jumped off the page at actor and producer Ronan Smith. It was from his own diary, but he had no recollection of writing it and no recollection of the thought. And, in a cruel irony, it came from an entry in which he had wondered about the cause of his own memory loss. "I had no idea when I read that that Alzheimer's could be...
The sunlight floods the room, just as it did during every day of the shoot for Making The Grade, (see review, top right) and Ken Wardrop, the film's director, emits his own distinctively sunny warmth. In person he is exactly as you would imagine from his collection of twinkling documentaries; a careful listener with a natural appreciation for the small absurdities of conversation. It takes a particular art to find the beauty and drama in such ostensibly small themes as a farmer herding cattle (2008's The Herd), a woman's experience of ageing (Undressing My Mother, 2004) or people learning piano,...
Just behind the building where I live in the city centre, on the fault line between what you might call dirty old town and the tech hub, a new development opened recently. The luxury apartments in it were snapped up in a frantic 24-hour period.
They say bad news comes in threes, and so it was for Blathnaid Ni Chofaigh and her sister Siobhan.
At the height of the hysteria around Conor McGregor's arrest in New York last Thursday night, a tweet did the rounds, purportedly from Donald Trump, saying that he was 'appalled' and calling for the death penalty for this 'animal'.
She’s been a model, a singer, and a reality-TV star, but acting was always her first love. Due to the ‘carnage’ of her teens, she’s never pursued her dream — until now. Nadia Forde tells Donal Lynch about her debut acting role, dealing with catty Irish models, how she’s working on her relationship with her dad — and why she doesn’t worry about her rugby player fiance
Even amid the ridiculously wealthy, blue-sky thinking billionaires of Silicon Valley, Elon Musk has always stood out like a beacon. When the South African entrepreneur recently launched the world's most powerful rocket and released footage of his self-invented electric car, the Tesla, floating in the cosmos, to strains of David Bowie's Space Oddity, these were just the latest stunts in a career built on outrageous statements and jaw-dropping engineering.
It felt strange to hear Leo Varadkar, that unabashed champion of the middle class, take what sounded like such a strong stance on homelessness last week. What an unsexy, un-Instagrammable, unsolvable, non-Leo theme, you couldn't help thinking. A serious comedown after all of those glamorous foreign trips. But in he waded.
It was as though, for a brief moment, RTE had forgotten its lines. When a big organisation like this is accused of sexism - as so many (including the national broadcaster itself) have in the past six months - the acceptable response has been to don the proverbial sackcloth and ashes, institute an internal inquiry, and publicly promise to do better.
When English opera star Anna Patalong takes to the National Concert Hall stage this summer, her performance will represent not only a musical highlight of the season - her voice lifts the spirits and beautifully inhabits every role - but also, for the singer herself, a type of homecoming.
Already, with a couple of months still to go, the abortion referendum feels like our own Vietnam; a war that will never end.
Is there a moment when you realise that you've become slightly brain damaged from social media? Or does the brain damage itself cloud the reality of the onset?
Strolling through the centre of Dublin with David McSavage you realise that, despite his lifelong best efforts, the campaign trail touch has somehow been passed down the line to him. He would make a wonderful politician, a stellar addition to the family business.
The moments when winter sports capture the imagination of the general public are few and far between.
It would give you some hope that last week the biggest story on social media wasn't about which famous man had been a sex pest or Conor McGregor's shameless shenanigans. Eclipsing both of those was the fevered discussion of Cat Person, a short story by Kristen Roupenian, which appeared in The New Yorker and for a brief, shining moment the piece turned the screaming echo chamber of Twitter into a sort of literary salon. Suddenly, everyone had an opinion on Margot and Robert and their horribly awkward sexual encounter.
Milly Tuomey was a beautiful child, the kind that you might expect to see in a film or in an ad campaign. Her cherubic looks should have been beside the point last week but her unhappiness with them gave the story of her suicide another disturbing texture. Her youth was the most shocking part of all, however.
It feels like we are in a panto moment. Somehow it has survived Pixar movies, recession and scandal and emerged into the modern world stronger than ever. Panto teaches young people about drama - it is the first taste of theatre for many of them - and reminds older people of the importance of silliness.
The Light House cinema in Dublin put 1970s classic Network on again recently. I took a friend who had never seen it. When they got to that famous scene where Howard Beale urges his viewers to go to the window and scream "I'm mad as hell and I can't take it any more" she turned to me and whispered "that's pretty much what's happening now".
When Ratko Mladic was sentenced to life imprisonment at the Hague last week, the news was met with scenes of jubilation in Bosnia. CNN showed pictures of old women in headscarves dancing in the street.
A moving evening at City Hall in Cork gave real meaning to the word inclusion.
It was late Thursday night when a friend texted to say that Louis CK was the latest man caught in a sex scandal. "He was genuinely funny. Soon there won't be anything left on Netflix," she grumbled, and it was hard to disagree, but, to be fair, the scandals have been at least as riveting as anything in the cinema at the moment. Anyway who needs Hollywood when we've had our homegrown...
Kevin Spacey's mangled gangster brogue from Ordinary Decent Criminal may go down as one of the worst Irish accents in celluloid history - but the film saw the now disgraced star form ties in Dublin which led to him returning here at every opportunity over a near 20-year period.
Hopes for a successful mediation of the bitter dispute between a son and his mother, concerning ownership of the well-known Kilkenny group of luxury design stores, have receded following the breakdown of talks.
There was widespread disgust last week when Kevin Spacey announced that he was coming out - or "choosing to live as a gay man", as he put it - at the same moment as he acknowledged attempting to have sex with the then 14-year-old actor Anthony Rapp.
For discerning culture vultures, the hottest ticket in London last Friday night was undoubtedly Jodie Foster's appearance at the screening in the BFI's South Bank cinema of the horror classic, Silence of the Lambs. It has been a quarter of a century since the film came out, sweeping all the major Oscar categories for the first time for any film since Ben-Hur, and even today it still grips audiences like a jolt of scalp-prickling terror. The film's director, Jonathan Demme, died earlier this year and it was partly in tribute to him that Foster agreed to attempt to articulate the film's complicated legacy.
It was a moment that Caitriona Perry could hardly have anticipated. Invited into the Oval Office to witness the first call between Donald Trump and the newly-elected Leo Varadkar, RTE's Washington Correspondent suddenly, momentously, found herself the focus of a comment from Trump that would make headlines around the world. It began innocuously enough. Trump told the Taoiseach that:...
Can a straight person ever really get away with saying 'faggot'? That is the burning question posed by the video of Conor McGregor repeatedly using the word to motivate one of his minions during a UFC bout this past week.
Is it worth it, young GAA stars must wonder. They give their blood, sweat and tears to the parish, receive no money and all but fleeting local stardom. But for the rest of their lives, if they should ever happen to slip up in any way, their names may well end up emblazoned all across the media, their infamy deepened by the mention of a few ancient inter-county medals.
Sometimes, how thoroughly, completely, irrevocably past it you are just creeps up on you. Until recently, I sort of thought I could sort of fool a lot of people into thinking I was still sort of young and with-it.
Can you still love someone who has committed a terrible crime? That is the stark question posed by Ann Marie O'Donnell in a new film, Property of the State, which dramatises the life and crimes of her brother, Brendan.
For Dr Ciara Kelly this coming week marks the end of an era. After 16 years as a GP in Greystones, the country's foremost TV medic is giving up the day job and moving full-time into a media role - she will present a 12-2pm slot every weekday on Newstalk.
A quarter of a century after he left Ireland for the last time, disgraced former national swimming coach George Gibney still periodically makes headlines here. A reporter will track him down to a small American town where there will be outrage at his proximity to young children. A blurry photo will accompany quotes from a politician here about how the powers that be must look again into Gibney's extradition. And there will be renewed handwringing about why a man who stood accused of multiple counts of child rape was ever allowed to block a prosecution against him.
The rumour, spreading like wildfire up and down the Firhouse Road, was that the actual Tom Cruise had shown up at the opening of the new Scientology Centre in Dublin on Saturday afternoon.
'In the fullness of time," Michael D assured reporters who wondered when he would make a decision on whether to keep his word about serving just one term as the country's President. "It is just my decision; it doesn't affect anyone else."