Billy Keane

When I heard Mrs 39 was cool­ing an oul lad’s tae, I thought that my ‘50 Shades’ mo­ment had gone

Irish Independent - - The Week - Billy Keane

THE Woman Who Hasn’t Had Sex For 39 Years is wor­ried she will lose her widow’s pen­sion. Even though Mrs 39 (re­luc­tantly) at­tended her hus­band’s fu­neral 27 years ago, she could still be mar­ried. There is a pos­si­bil­ity Mrs 39 will have to pay back 27 years of the widow’s pen­sion, if her hus­band is still alive. That’s 324 monthly pay­ments in to­tal. But more about the pos­si­ble claw-back later on, and the pos­si­ble sight­ing in New York of the late, or pos­si­bly present, Mr 39.

We will first deal with the al­le­ga­tions from usu­ally un­re­li­able sources that Mrs 39 broke her fast.

You might re­mem­ber she went off the booreea­ree when the hus­band ran off with a 21-year-old “doxie” 39 years ago. Doxie is Mrs 39’s word, not mine. These are dan­ger­ous times. One wrong word and it’s the end of a glit­ter­ing ca­reer.

There are no se­crets. The 2+2=5 So­ci­ety is adamant Mrs 39 is hav­ing an af­fair with The Man Who Knows Ev­ery­thing.

The 2+2=5 So­ci­ety is a group of lo­cal gos­sips who meet on an in­for­mal ba­sis and while there is no for­mal struc­ture or lead­er­ship, they man­age to cause as much may­hem as the ‘gilets jaunes’ (yel­low vests).

“They were seen drink­ing tea to­gether,” said one of the 2+2=5 So­ci­ety.

So I said, “So?”

Then the 2+2=5 oper­a­tive whis­pered: “Con­fi­den­tially, I heard on good au­thor­ity she cooled his tae for him.” There’s noth­ing con­fi­den­tial about the 2+2= 5 So­ci­ety. As we say in north Kerry, “they wouldn’t hold their wa­ter”.

In our ver­nac­u­lar, when a woman cools a man’s tae, it means they are phys­i­cally in­ti­mate.

There go my columns, I thought. The peo­ple of Ire­land and be­yond these shores are ob­sessed with the story of a woman who hasn’t had sex for 39 years, but no one will want to read about a woman who is cool­ing some oul lad’s tae a cou­ple of times a week.

She had no right to do it. Reck­less. Bang goes the 40th-an­niver­sary-with­out-sex party.

There goes my USP. She could have waited. There were plans for a book and ev­ery chance of a movie deal, maybe even a mu­si­cal.

The ti­tle alone would sell mil­lions of copies. Imag­ine a book called ‘The Woman Who Hasn’t Had Sex For 39 Years’. It could be big­ger than ‘50 Shades’.

I would have writ­ten the book long be­fore now, but I was afraid I would be had up for false advertising. There was the dan­ger of some lad in the book­shop, and he roar­ing out, “I bought this book called ‘The Woman Who Hasn’t Had Sex For 39 years’ and there’s no sex in it.”

There’s no pleas­ing some. Mrs 39 was adamant the last time we spoke that she did love the singer Michael Bublé but it was pla­tonic and she had no in­ter­est in the other thing.

I was just think­ing did Adam Ant, the punk singer from the 1970s, get his name from the word adamant? I must ask The Man Who Knows Ev­ery­thing (TMWKE). He will def­i­nitely have an an­swer, even if it’s in­vari­ably a wrong one.

I couldn’t imag­ine Mrs 39 hav­ing the slight­est in­ter­est in cool­ing his tae. He’s hard go­ing, like all peo­ple who are never wrong.

From the time TMWKE bought the pur­ple pants in Benidorm back around 1983, or it could have been 1984, The 2+2=5 So­ci­ety thought he was “a small bit gay”.

And good luck to him if he is. I’m sure TMWKE doesn’t know he’s gay and I am strongly of the opin­ion it’s not my job to go telling him, even if it would save my book.

Now Mrs 39 was al­ways very forth­right with me so I felt I should ask her if she did ac­tu­ally cool TMWKE’s tae, in the pub­lic in­ter­est.

That’s not say­ing I wasn’t nosey my­self (and, yes, I am wor­ried about my stock-in-trade).

This was all writ­ten on Thurs­day and I met with Mrs 39 by ac­ci­dent this very Fri­day morn­ing, just a few min­utes ago.

She was in very bad form. Mrs 39 told me (ex­clu­sively) that a woman who was in New York to do the Christ­mas shop­ping saw Mrs 39’s late hus­band on 42nd Street.

“Who­ever it was, even if it wasn’t him, was the spit of him,” re­ported the shop­per.

There’s more. Mr 39, if it was him, was hold­ing hands with a much younger woman and she was wear­ing a furry hat.

He ran off when he saw the shop­per, drag­ging the young woman in the furry hat af­ter him “like a dog on a lead”.

Mrs 39 is de­lighted the young one Mr 39 ran off with 39 years ago has been ditched, and sad in that she could lose her pen­sion.

“He could be alive,” said Mrs 39. “‘T’would be just like some­thing he would do. He was al­ways bor­row­ing money and not pay­ing it back. The Mafia could be af­ter him.

“He was cre­mated so we never got to see his face at the wake but there was a smell of drink off the ashes, which means it could have been him in the urn.”

I tell her vis­ual iden­ti­fi­ca­tion is no­to­ri­ously un­re­li­able and the NY shop­per is also most un­re­li­able.

The shop­per saw the im­age of Michael Collins on an ‘Ar­ran Ban­ner’ one time and she is a prom­i­nent mem­ber of the 2+2=5 So­ci­ety. Need I say any more?

“The Man Who Knows Ev­ery­thing was a great help to me and I showed him a new way of cool­ing his tae,” said Mrs 39.

I felt faint. Would I re­sign from this page, or would I wait to be fired?

“It was the least I could do when he did so much re­search. He told me to ex­hume the ashes and do a DNA test.”

I felt ter­ri­ble for be­ing so self­ish. Isn’t Mrs 39 en­ti­tled to cool any­one’s tae any time she feels like it?

“The poor man,” said Mrs 39 of TMWKE, “he was af­ter get­ting a new set of false teeth and they were cut­ting the gums off of him so I poured his tae into the saucer to cool it down a bit. He was em­bar­rassed over the slurpin’, but sure wasn’t it the first cup the poor man had for the most of a week.”

In the mean­time, Mrs 39 con­tin­ues to draw her widow’s pen­sion and the pro­posed DNA test has been post­poned in­def­i­nitely.

‘Mr 39 was cre­mated so we never got to see his face at the wake but there was a smell of drink off the ashes, which means it could have been him in the urn’

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