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Why Ross Is Still The Boss, Roysh.

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Ross O’Carroll Kelly has entertained us for so long now, so what better way to spread some festive cheer by charting some of his most memorable quotes. There’s a few Christmas crackers in here.

I end up letting her believe we’re, like, an item, but I tell her that if we’re going to, like, give this thing a proper crack, we’re going to have to be PONPA for the time being, as in Private Only, No Public Appearances, just because of all the pressure that’s going to come on us from all sides, bullshit bullshit bullshit. I don’t know how I keep a straight face sometimes She was pretty alroysh looking, I have to say, went out three or four times and got on fine, until this one particular day, roysh, when we were driving back to her gaff after being at the cinema and she said those dreaded words: I don’t believe in sex before marriage. I basically told her to get the fock out of the cor. Don’t get me wrong, roysh, I pulled over first. She was there, Ross, I live miles from here.? And I was loike, There’s a bus stop over there. Use it.

I was like, Hey, you’re being offered the chance to be with Ross O’Carroll-Kelly. Might not come around again.? She goes, No, I’m, em, seeing someone. I’m like, Who?? She’s there, Rob. I’m there, Rob who?? She goes, Rob O’Brien. Now I may have failed to Leaving three times, roysh, but I’m not stupid. Nobody’s called Rob O’Brien, that’s the kind of name you make up when a copper catches you pissing up against an ATM in Donnybrook at four o’clock in the morning after an international match. So that was the night I put Orlaith’s name alongside Erika’s in the file marked Long-term Projects.

Probably the best craic of the entire holiday, roysh, is seeing Oisinn and JP at the airport on the way home, trying to get away from all the birds they’ve been knobbing for the last, like, fortnight, without giving them their addresses and phone numbers. This bird, roysh, she asks JP for his number and he goes, ‘90210,’ and the bird’s like, ‘That’s very short.’ He’s like, ‘You may need to put a two in front of that now.’ She goes, ‘It’s still a number short,’ and he’s like, ‘Then add an eight as well.’ She goes, ‘At the beginning or the end?’ and he’s like, ‘I’m easy.’

But she’s big into hugs this bird, roysh, and she’s there giving me another, like she’s never going to see me again. And although I haven’t broken the news to her yet, she isn’t.

I’m like, “I’m hordly homophobic. I just don’t like goys cracking onto me.I don’t like tomato ketchup either. Doesn’t make me ketchup-aphobic. Just don’t like it.

She says that even though she’s not, like, gay herself, roysh, going to The George is such a good night out if you’re a girl, because you’re not, like, getting constantly hassled by goys all night, and I’m thinking, You should be so focking lucky.

Eventually, roysh, completely out of the blue, she goes, is it just a coincidence that all the worst words in a woman’s life contain the word men?? We’re talking menstruation, we’re talking menopause, we’re talking?? Oisinn’s like, Manage a trois?? And Erika, roysh, she gives him the finger and goes, In your dreams, and me and Oisinn high-five each other, even though I don’t speak German.

I’ve never actually been with her before, roysh, despite her best efforts, it has to be said, always thought of her as a bit of a BOBFOC, the old Body Off ‘Baywatch’, Face Off ‘Crimewatch’ sort.

Fionn goes, in a hundred and fifty years time everyone in Ireland will talk with an American accent. That’s my prediction. All the girls are like, Hello? Where is this, like, coming from??Sophie goes, That girl has turned into such a Samantha. It’s like? Hello?? Aoife goes, Oh my God, I am, like, a total Samantha myself. We are talking, like, OH! MY! GOD!? And Sophie goes, No you’re not. You’re, like, Ally McBeal. You so don?t know what you want. And Keira goes, And you are so Joey from Dawson’s Creek as well, and Sophie’s like, Oh my God, TOTALLY, and Aoife, roysh, she actually looks quite pleased with that.She’s like, “Oh my God, Ross, you’re not jealous, are you?” I’m like, “Yeh roysh.”Then I’m like, “Been there, seen that, done that.” She was, like, totally freaking when I said that.

I’m walking into the dressing room and someone calls my name, roysh, and I turn around and it’s, like, the old man. He looks a total spa as usual in that focking sheepskin coat and that hat, and he’s, like, smoking a cigar. What a TOTAL retard.He’s like, “Well done, Ross. You had a terrific game.”I’m like, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, give me some money.” He, like, takes out his wallet, roysh, and pulls out two €20 notes, which he hands to me and he’s like, “Don’t get too drunk now, Ross.” I’m like, “Yeh roysh! I’m HORDLY likely to on forty focking quid now, am I?”

We get off the Dort in Bray, roysh, and we’re waiting for the bus to Greystones, and this Virgin on the Rocks comes up to Fionn and she’s like, “Fionn O’Suilleabhainn?”And he’s like, “Yeah.” She goes, “You’ve been telling people you were with me.” Fionn’s like, “No I haven’t.” She’s like, “You have. You told Esme McConville and Kate Murray you were with me in the rugby club two weeks ago.” Fionn’s like, “Fock off, you silly little girl.” And she, like, flips the total lid, calls him a retard and slaps him across the face, roysh. Then she storms off and Fionn’s just there laughing.He’s like, “She is TOTALLY gagging for me.” One side of his face is still, like, totally red when we get on the bus.

I ask Simon for, like, a quiet word, roysh, and we sit in a corner and I tell him I’m really sorry for focking things up for the team. I tell him I had an attack of nerves. He’s, like, totally sound about it and says that we lost it over the full 80 minutes and not, like, on the strength of that one mistake at the end. I ask him what he’s going to do now. He shrugs his shoulders and goes, “Repeat?”I’m like, “You can’t repeat again. They’re going to suss that you’re over-age sooner or later.”He, like, shakes his head, roysh, and he’s like, “Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t,” and then he goes, “Hey, Ross, are you coming to my 21st on Friday night?”

It’s about, like, half-eight when I wake up the next morning, roysh. I want to get the fock out of there without waking Elinor up, roysh, which is difficult because she’s lying on my orm. I am SUCH a master at this particular move, though, that the goys call me The Coyote. It was, like, Christian who came up with the nickname. He watched this programme on the National Geographic channel, roysh, and it was all about, like, wild dogs and shit, and it said that if a coyote gets his paw caught in a trap, roysh, he chews off his own leg to stop himself being captured. Well that’s me. Christian goes, “You’d chew off your own orm rather than face having to talk to her in the morning.” And he’s roysh. I get dressed as quickly as I can, sneak downstairs, and shut the front door quietly behind me.

I’m like, totally skanky at this stage, roysh, and I put up my hand and go, “Will Carling captained England to numerous Five Nations Championships and the semi-final of the World Cup, while knobbing Julia Carling, who’s, like, a total babe, and allegedly Princess Diana, who was the most beautiful woman in the world and the future queen of England. The height of the average Irish player’s ambition is a quick knee-trembler in the carpark at the back of the Wicked Wolf in Blackrock. Is that why we’re shit at rugby?

“This is the biggest day of our lives, goys. We’ll never be together like this again. When we leave Castlerock, most of us will go on to five-grand-a-term private colleges where we’ll get qualifications without having to sit exams. We’ll all get jobs through a goy we share a bar of soap with down at the rugby club and we’ll shag all the little groupies who hang around the clubhouse until we reach our early thirties, when we’ll marry the youngest, prettiest and thickest of these, and then continue to sleep with all of her friends. We all have bright futures ahead of us because we are the elite. But today is the last time we will ever have to work hord for anything in our lives. Let’s make it count this year. Let’s do it for Sooty. Let’s do it for Castlerock. But most of all…let’s do it for us.”

Shit the bed, is it my imagination, roysh, or am I getting better looking every day? Hord to believe I’ve just crawled out of the sack. I stare at myself in the mirror for, like, three or four minutes. There’s no doubt that face is going to break a lot of hearts the year. Orlaith with an i, t and h Bracken. Fock me, haven’t seen that bird since…must be three years.She played hockey for Alex and tonsil hockey for Ireland.Out this particular Friday night, roysh, and me and Christian make the mistake of hitting Boomerangs, got the old beer goggles on, of course, spot this gang of birds, roysh, obviously out on a hen’s night, we’re talking easy pickings here, mosey on over, give them a couple of killer lines, though I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known they were skobies.

I’m telling him all about the Traffic Light Ball, roysh, about me wearing a red spot instead of a green one?we’re talking red as in No Go?and ending up scoring seven times, or eight if you count that bogger from Ag. Science, which I don’t, and how it all goes to prove the theory that what birds really want is what they can’t, like, have.

Anyway, roysh, to cut a long story short, fair focks to him, the dude has already come up with a plan. He asks me what test centre I’m doing it in, and I tell him Rathgar, and he tells me he knows where he can get his hands on a JCB. I’m there, ‘What the fock has that got to do with the price of cabbage?’ and he’s like, ‘The second you come out of the test centre, I’ll pull out in front of you and drive at, like, fifteen miles an hour. You’ll end up doing your whole test in, like, second gear.’ I’m there, ‘But he’ll just get me to turn off somewhere to get away from you.’ He goes, ‘Soon as I see you indicate, then I’ll turn that way too. Trust me, Ross, it’ll work.’

I’m there, ‘Failed?’ How focking embarrassing. I’m like, ‘How could I have failed. I never got out of second gear.’ He goes, ‘Well, let’s start with the questions I asked you.’ I’m like, ‘Go on, let’s hear it, this’ll be good.’ He goes, ‘When I asked you an occasion on which you might turn on your full lights…’ and I’m like, ‘Go on,’ and he’s there, ‘You said, “When some stupid bitch won’t pull over when you’re trying to overtake”.’ He’s basically one of these nit-pickers. Then he goes, ‘What was the first thing you did when you got into the car?’ and I’m like, ‘Stort the engine,’ and he goes, ‘No, you turned on the radio.’ Of course I’m like, ‘Hello? There’s a law against driving with the radio on now, is there?’ and he goes, ‘You changed a CD while you were driving.’ Trust me to get one of these fockers who’s trying to trip you up. Then he goes, ‘And you didn’t look in your mirrors at all.’ I’m like, ‘That’s bullshit,’ and he’s there going, ‘Sorry, you did. Once. To check your baseball cap was on straight.’

He goes, ‘Christian ended up with this bird from Iceland.’ I’m like, ‘As in the country?’ and he goes, ‘No, as in the supermorket. Of course the focking country.

The cor, we’re talking the black Golf GTI, with alloys, it’s in the garage at the moment. Just thought if I’m getting serviced on a regular basis, roysh, then my wheels deserve the same pleasure but the only downside is that I have to use the old public transport, the dreaded 46A. I’d totally forgotten how many Paddy Whackers use it. I’m sitting upstairs, roysh, and there’s this, like, total fleck beside me, and he’s smoking away there, roysh, and I’m thinking of saying something to him, not that I’ve any objection to smoking ? Sorcha smokes, so do most of the birds, but I basically just want to say to the guy, Are you gonna be a knacker all your life? Idon’t get a chance to say anything, roysh, because past the shopping centre in Stillorgan, he suddenly jumps to his feet, reefs open the window and shouts, ‘Oi, Plugger. I fooked your mudder,’ and this Plugger goy, roysh, he’s standing near the bus stop looking up at the top deck, trying to spot who it was who shouted it, no doubt half of him thinking it’s probably true, then he sees the goy and he goes, ‘Alroy, Anto. Storee?’ and the two of them give each other the thumbs-up. Then Anto sits back down and lights up again.
What the fock is the deal with these people?

Then this bird comes over, roysh, Danielle’s her name, or Measles as the goys call her, basically because everyone’s had her once and nobody really wants her a second time.
JP’s like ‘ Ross, turn on Joe Duffy. . .’ I’m like ‘You mean that phoneshow for boggers, skobes and pensioners? I’m not even sure you can get it this side of the city’.

Image courtesy of rossocarrollkelly.ie

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