The Secret Life of... Pat Kenny
I love Killiney at this time of year. The sharp tang of the autumn air . . . the crunch of leaves under one's feet in one's own field.
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. Economic ruin. Redundancy. Welfare state. How are we going to tackle it?
Horse-riding through north-eastern Killiney this morning, as I trotted past The Edge's electric gates, I was struck by the following thought. Perhaps if the pension levy was cut just a bit more, we'll be jolly well alright.
The Pat Kenny Show covers a wide variety of topics, with clarity and conviction.
Much like my favourite Chateau Neuf du Pape 2005.
I wonder if I pretend to admire James Connolly, would Joe Duffy and I bond more closely?
I can't bear the unseemly noise from that Camembert Quartet. Whenever I hear them, I know it's time for another snooze-fest.
I'll leave Ryan to his D-list celebrities plugging their autobiographies, while I tackle the real issues.
Mahler on the iPlayer and a bottle of something red and expensive, shared with loved ones, are just the tickets to relaxation.
Enda should try it sometime!
Or this is how it would be if we were Pat Kenny