I used
to go binge drinking (a pejorative term for ‘a night on the batter’) with the late, great playwright Tom Murphy. He was a wise and generous companion and he had an advantage over me: I had never seen any of his award-winning plays, but he had read some of my shock-horror exclusives in the sunday World.
He knew a lot about bands and he was a fine singer. We laughed a lot together and his death last week leaves an enormous space in the pantheon of great living Irish playwrights.