Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

'If I've learned one thing,' the late, great Father Fehily used to say, 'it's that life, families and rugby balls don't always behave the way you want them to!' Looking at my life, I'd have to say, the dude wasn't wrong. My old man had been caught rigging a General Election. My old dear was about to become a seventy-year-old mother of six. And Honor was walking around in a yellow rain mac, telling everyone that the end of the world was coming. It was enough to drive a man to the brink.

The only simple thing in my life was my new job as the Head Coach of Presentation College Bray - which is saying something given that I had to try to turn a collection of jokers, chokers and forty-a-day smokers into a team capable of winning the school's first Leinster Schools Senior Cup in nearly ninety years. And while Father Fehily would have been spinning in his grave, I soon found myself falling in love - with the town I loathed so well.

As the great James Bond said, 'History isn't kind to men who play God.' How right the dude ended up being. My secret double-life was finally catching up with me. Sorcha wanted a divorce. I was facing jail time for taking my orse out in a pub in Cork. And there was a very good chance that my sister-in-law's surrogate baby was actually mine?

One by one, all of the goys turned their backs on me. Then came an unexpected plot twist. From beyond the grave, Fr Fehily - the M and the Q to our Leinster Schools Senior Cup-winning team - sent us all on one final mission . . . To walk the Camino - or die trying! It's, like, double oh fock!

Life as a stay-in-bed husband turned out to be a lot more complicated than I expected.

My wife was pregnant with a baby that possibly wasn't mine. My old man was engaged in a war with the feminist movement that he was never going to win. And my old dear was making a lot of unexplained trips to Russia.

Throw into the mix an eldest son with a possible sex addiction and three infant sons who were so thick they made me look like Edward Einstein. I might have actually gone over the edge if it wasn't for the belief of my daughter and the challenge of helping her win the greatest prize that South Dublin has to offer - the Strictly Mount Anville glitter ball.

I was a rugby player with a great future behind me. My son was locked in a violent turf war with a rival Love/Hate tour operator, my daughter was in love with a boy who looked like Justin Bieber, and my old dear was about to walk up the aisle with a 92-year-old billionaire.

I was, like, staring down the barrel of middle age with the contentment of knowing that I was the greatest Irish rugby player who no one in Ireland had ever actually heard of. Until a chance conversation with an old Jesuit missionary made me realize that it wasn't enough. I was guided, as if by GPS, to a muddy field in Ballybrack. And there I finally discovered my destiny - to keep a struggling Seapoint team in Division 2B of the All Ireland League. Or die trying.

A love affair born in rural Ireland! Two mismatched lovers, locked in a relationship that will change both of them ... forever!

From the day I was born, I was brought up to believe that Gaelic games were invented for people too stupid to understand the laws of rugby. Little did I know that one day I would become a legend of Kerry football. But then my life has taken a lot of unexpected twists and turns. My old man is, like, the Taoiseach of the country. My wife is an actual Minister in his Government. And my suddenly teenage daughter is heading for the Jailtacht - and her very first rugby boyfriend. And then there's Marianne ... Of course, I was too busy becoming a Gaelic football stor to realise that my family - like the entire country - was being pushed towards a cliff edge. And I was the only man capable of saving Ireland's democracy.

Sorcha had thrown me out of the family home - this time apparently for good. And yet that was the least of my worries... My old dear was in prison, accused of murdering her second husband. My sons were showing an unhealthy interest in - someone call social services - soccer! And my daughter wanted everyone to call her Eddie. But don't even go there!

On top of all that, a blond wig discovered in a dusty attic, had given my old man delusions of power. Suddenly, he was running for election, promising to tear up the bailout deal and take Ireland out of Europe. And that's to say nothing of his secret plan for Ireland's second city... But shush! Don't mention the wall!