Happy anniversary Brian Cowan. Okay, so I don't mean that. Well, unhappy anniversary then. No, sorry, that's not right either – look Brian, let's be honest, what I mean to say is, damn you and the horse you rode in on two years ago. Yes that's it, I wish I'd never set eyes on you. It's really nothing personal. I have no doubt you are a good friend, a great daddy, a fine husband and a brilliant son. The problem is you are a terrible taoiseach.
Brian, I've carefully thought this through, so there's no point trying to change my mind – I want a political divorce. Of course, you deserve an explanation – after all, we did spend two years together.
The thing is, Brian, you limit me, undermine me, you don't pay me any attention, and you make me feel bad about myself. People say I have aged 10 years since you became taoiseach. We have nothing left but an empty shell of a technical mandate to bind us together.
I don't respect you, and if you're honest, you know you don't respect me. We would be much better off going our separate ways and trying to find happiness in other political relationships.
All your friends say you are a shadow of your former self, they say the cock-sure swagger is gone, the song has left your heart. When we first got together you were the life and soul of the Fianna Fáil party; they all feared you, now they snipe and swing at you. I hate seeing you like this, and the longer we stay together, the more we will both shrink as people.
Goodbye Brian, it's over.