Here’s your weekly journey into the mind of Colm O’Regan.

The Atlantic storms name list is out. This year could be a turning point. A sea-change, if you will.

Sometimes life just imitates art. The art was the Tea Master episode of Father Ted when Ted gives Mrs Doyle an automated tea-maker.

I heard the roar outside of the engine and ancient instincts were reawoken.

Well that’s good news. Maybe I can relax a little. You see they reckon slacking can be evolutionarily advantageous.

Spam: the disappointment in your inbox. The notification that turns out to be nothing. It is angrily disposed of.

Walking up the street after a night-out, home at a reasonable hour to let the babysitter go home, we saw it. A nightclub queue. One that was of proper Celtic Tiger length.

I swear they’re doing it just to spite me. They know it’ll drive me mad. One more insult. There is nothing more galling than two — no wait there’s another one — THREE FLIES at it hammer on tongs in the corner of the telly screen as you’re trying to catch up on episodes of a dark psychological Victorian thriller.

IT has been a surprising hit in the house: the screensaver, writes Colm O'Regan. 

You'll notice it as you go into the big clothes shops from now on: signs done in blackboard chalk-style, and a smell of thousands of sensible shoes, which are Fabrique en Vietnam or Laos or Myanmar. (Wherever labour laws are most lax).