Hello. Four minutes after ten is the time. I hope you're well.

Do you know what would really intrigue me today? What's it like to live with someone like that?

I know that's not really the most urgent political question of the moment, but I was watching it yesterday and I watched almost all of it.

I broke off to share my thoughts with Irish radio, such as the strange nature of my existence.

But apart from that, I watched almost all of it. And about an hour in, I just found myself wondering what it's like to live

with someone like that. Imagine if Mrs. O'Brien was incapable of telling the truth. I would come

home and find her mouth peppered with custard pie crumbs.

And I'd say, my custard pie was in the fridge earlier.

Where's it gone?

And she'd say, I've no idea.

I've no idea.

Don't like custard pies.

And what do you do?

How do you move to the next part of the next part of the day?

She said, well, darling, please.

You know, I was really looking forward to that.

I have actually got a custard pie in the fridge at the moment, a custard tart.

Old school, not Portuguese.

If it's not there when I get home this evening, there will.

There will be war, although it would almost certainly be one of my children rather than my beloved.

But she's there, right?

I'm looking for it. I get home, hop off the bus with a spring in my step.

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