Turns out that he's gone into construction, roysh, buying up corner sites in existing housing estates and building gaffs on them, which is pretty clever, it has to be said. "There's a focking fortune to be made from it, " he goes.

I'm just happy he's back talking about this kind of profit.

"Plus, " he goes, "I've fallen in love, Ross. I've met the one. Do you have, like, half an hour to spare?" and I look at my watch, roysh, and pull a face, not wanting to make it obvious that I've actually got fock all to do, now that I'm, like, homeless, jobless, penniless and on the way to being pretty much divorced.

"I've got only about 25 minutes, " I go. "Why, what's the Jack?"

He's there, "Come on, " and he grabs my orm and storts dragging me in the direction of Westmoreland Street. "It's a funny thing when it finally happens . . . the thunderbolt, " and I'm thinking, that's basically what he said when he fell for God, though I don't say anything because I don't want to piss on the goy's parade.

I stop at the traffic lights, roysh, just beyond the Bank of Ireland, getting ready to cross, because I'm presuming at this stage that the bird he's fallen for is that absolute cracker who works in the bor in the Westin.

But JP goes, "What are you doing, Ross? It's this side of the road, " and of course I'm suddenly wondering whether the focker's still Baghdad after all.

I'm like, "There's nothing up there exceptf Fock . . . she doesn't work in Carroll's, does she?"

You could have knocked me down with a feather when he turned around . . . casual as you like . . . and went, "Ross, we're crossing the river, " and before I had a chance to even say the words 'tiger' and 'kidnapping', the goy was leading me across O'Connell Bridge, not a focking thought for his own safety or, more importantly, mine.

Of course, as we're walking, I'm pointing to my boat race, going, "This is my focking living now . . . if it gets damagedf" And that's when I realise that we've all of a sudden stopped, in front of the GPO, where there's, like, a crowd of people gathered, listening to some bird blabbing on through a loudhowler.

She's giving it, "In this day and age, with America continuing its military oppression of small nations under the guise of a socalled war on terror, with the environmental degradation of the planet by greed-driven corporations continuing unchecked and with tens of millions of our brothers and sisters across the globe dying of preventable hunger and curable disease, the ideas of Marx, Engels and Lenin, not to mention James Connolly, are even more relevant today than in the time they livedf" Of course I'm so focking slow in the uptake. I'm going, "Why have we stopped?" and then I cop the way JP's looking at her, roysh, and it finally dawns on me.

"Isn't she great?" he goes and I have to say that great is not the first word that comes to my mind. Granted, roysh, there's a slight resemblence to Ana Beatriz Barros . . . we're talking very slight . . . but it has to be said, roysh, there's nothing sexy about a bird who stands outside the GPO spouting angry shit to a crowd.

"Her name's Celine, " he goes, as if that's all the focking information I need.

She's still at it, giving it, "The world in which we live can only be saved by a people-centred social order, based on the revolutionary socialist theories of, blahdy blahdy blahf" I turn to JP and go, "What's all that crap about?" and he goes, "Oh, " as if the question was totally unexpected, "She's a Communist."

A Communist? Yeah, I've, like, some vague memory of that crowd from history at school. I'm there, "What do they want?" and he goes, "A society in which all property is publicly owned and each person works and is paid according to his or her abilities and needs."

I'm suddenly looking over both shoulders, roysh, and JP goes, "Don't worry, Ross . . . it's not illegal, " and I'm thinking, it was the last time I looked.

The next thing, roysh, there's a big round of applause and suddenly she comes over to us.

JP kisses her on both cheeks, roysh, then . . . get this . . . calls her "comrade". He introduces her to me and she looks me up and down and I can tell that she doesn't think much of me.

JP tells her that we're going to, like, grab a coffee in Storbucks and she says she'll follow us in.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing, " he tells me when we're alone again. "It's a phase a lot of birds go through, especially when they're studying politics. She's actually from good stock.

Killiney, believe it or not. Give her a couple of years and she'll be a wage slave for some multinational that regularly focks the third world in the ass."

"Well, " I go, "I wish I had your faith, " though the truth is, I don't really give a fock, now that I'm back on the southside and I'm, like, wrapping my face around a tall white chocolate mocha.

The next thing, roysh, he's whipped out this folder and he's talking me through all his plans.

He's bought three corner sites in, like, Crumlin, of all places, one in Sallynoggin, one in Skankill and one in Rathfarnham. Reckons he's going to make about 750Ks from the deal.

I'm just sitting there thinking, you've really got to admire the focker, when all of a sudden I hear a voice go, "What are you even doing here? You know how I feel about this place and their attempts to colonise the worldf" Celine's looking at all the pages spread out across the table and all of a sudden, roysh, I see this look of panic cross JP's face.

"What's all this stuff?" she goes.

Quick as a flash, roysh, JP goes, "Oh, er, Ross is thinking of going into the building game . . .

buying up corner sites from the council and sticking houses on themf" Before I even manage to get out a word, Celine's turned around to me and gone, "People like you make me sick. This is the kind of acquisitiveness that's perpetuated the class bias and social divisiveness of so-called Celtic Tiger Ireland. Did you know, the number of people buying second homes for the purposes of speculation is now more than the number of firsttime buyers? It's why rented accommodation from exploitative landlords is becoming more and more the norm for young people in this country. Meanwhile the public housing stock is virtually nonexistent . . . and that's all down to bloodsuckers like you. Come on, JP, I can't sit in this goy's company for another minutef" I'm just, like, sitting there with my mouth open as JP stands up and storts putting his jacket on.

Then he looks me straight in the eye and goes, "Capitalist pig, " and shakes his head at me like he's all disappointed.

When Celine turns her back, he makes the sign of a phone and goes, "I'll bell you later."

Like I said, it's good to have the focker back.