International Monetary Fun

Last week, I published exclusive extracts from the personal diary of Wolfgang Uppenhaus, one of the IMF’s leading representatives here in Ireland. His first day in Ireland was a whirlwind. Looking at Anglo’s accounts, being ignored by Brian Lenihan, meeting Bertie in the cupboard and seeing the Prime Minister being tired and emotional. Despite a

Cheeky Imfs

Last week there were rumours about a tall Hungarian floating around Government departments. But this week it’s official. They’re here. Some financey foreigners with even tans, white teeth and steely humourless glares have arrived in the country and will be looking at the books. The Irish are always fascinated by what the outside world thinks


The publishers aren’t interested. Shockingly, it now seems unlikely that any of my four recession themed books – see A Novel Idea – will ever be printed. A rather unsavoury film studio in California have bought the rights to Permission To Build, License to Love, my steamy novel about passion and lust in An Bord

Open to Interpretation

They say that music hath the power to charm the savage breast. I can’t comment. My own breasts are fairly tame. What I do know is that music has the power to confuse. Time and again, a singer’s muttered delivery has caused me to create a strange alternative to the songwriter’s original lyrics. What I