Secret diary of Enda Kenny
Drat, that's all I need for tomorrow night. The camera adds 10 pounds as it is. I want to add weight to the proceedings -- not in the literal sense, though.
Ring Catherine Yore for advice. She says that a few simple stomach crunches a day keeps the pre-election spread at bay.
And it sure beats having Leo Varadkar lecturing me over the difference between a glass for white wine and a glass for red. It tastes all the bloody same to me -- I don't care which glass they use.
Or this is how it would be if we were Enda Kenny . . .