Basic B*tch

Declan Lynch’s tales of addiction

The heartache of saying farewell without a funeral

Iheard an interesting story recently about a “prominent” Irish family which had one particular member — we’ll call him Jack — who was a particular kind of alcoholic. The kind who goes off it from time to time, but who always goes back on it eventually.

The family was naturally tormented by this — arguably, it is more difficult to cope with a man such as Jack, with his endless falling off the wagon, than with the drinker who never bothers to get on the wagon in the first place.

Yes, it’s the hope that kills you, but still they kept hoping against hope, because there was this friend of theirs, a priest

— we’ll call him Bill — who seemed to have a special understanding of Jack.

It was to Father Bill that the family would turn, in desperation, when Jack was in a bad place again — the same bad place, just a bit worse each time. And sure enough, Father Bill would find the right words, the elusive formula which would appeal to some part of Jack that no other voice could reach.

And for a while, there would be peace in the valley.

Because Father Bill was a particular kind of a priest, not an overly pious individual, more a man of the world who was as comfortable talking to members of prominent families in their own language, as he was comfortable in the bosom of the Lord.

He had a kind of a charisma, that of the well-rounded character who just happened to have a direct line to God, and who was therefore very much in demand by men such as Jack, and all belonging to him.

And yet, even in this brief outline of the special relationship that had developed between the prominent family and the distinguished padre, you will probably have spotted at least one obvious flaw in this arrangement — basically, it didn’t work.

I mean, it would work for a while, because Father Bill had the magic, whatever it was — but, like the magic of the drink itself, it would always wear off, sooner or later, usually sooner. And then they’d have to find it all over again.

As it happens, during all the years when these interventions were taking place, a lot of people were actually succeeding in going off the drink for good, not by engaging the services of some sort of holy man akin to the horse whisperer, but by going to AA meetings.

They could just walk in off the street, and stay for a while, and maybe they’d come back the next time, and maybe they’d keep coming back.

And you could do this if you were from a prominent family too, except for their own reasons, there was a tendency on the part of such people to favour the more Byzantine approach — to look for the private ministry of the Father Bills of this world.

It was almost as if they wanted a solution more appropriate to their eminence; they wanted to take the shortcut in this as in other areas of life. But as it often turned out, they were taking the long way round.

They were lacking a kind of humility which is essential in these situations. A lot of people will mock the celebrities who speak of their experiences in rehab, yet they have helped to confirm the fact that ultimately, in there, they are no different to anyone else with an addiction problem.

So you can listen to Elton John talking about how, in rehab, he was expected to make his own bed and clean his room, and how this was a revelation for him. How it helped him to understand that whatever magic had enabled him to become a superstar, it was of no use to him in his present circumstances.

Yes, finding a Father Bill who can look into your alcoholic soul may seem like the simple solution

— but, really, it’s much simpler than that.

“They wanted to take the shortcut, but they were taking the long way round”