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7 Days in the life of George Lee

I’m expecting to replace Bird but am left just feeding the ducks

Sunday I can check my emails without having to pretend I find Enda Kenny's YouTube clips of dancing dogs amusing. No longer living a lie tastes sweet.

Monday Head to Montrose and see if Cathal Goan's around for a chat. I tell him that George Lee has gone from reporting the story to being the story, and he can't bear it.

Tuesday Goan said that the only vacancy he has at the moment is Charlie Bird's American gig. "This is George Lee [pause], reporting [pause] from Washington." Love it!

Wednesday I'm like Katharine Hepburn -- never complain, never explain. A reporter rings me to ask me what I'm going to do next -- it has been rumoured that I'm going for Bird's old gig. I tell them I'll ring them back tomorrow.

Thursday Still no word from Goan, so I enigmatically tell the reporter that I'm still smarting after my time in FG and I don't think those wounds will ever heal. Enda -- you hurt me, man.

Friday I'm getting restless with nothing to do, so I feed the ducks in St Stephen's Green. "You're all going to run out of food and turn to cannibalism for survival, just like the bankers in crisis," I tell them, but they don't seem to care.

Saturday I can't stick this standing around, waiting for someone to tell me what to do. How does Bird do it?

Or this is how it would be if we were George ...


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