When Irish eyes are smiling... in New York

I DON’T know when I had cabbage like it. The right amount of firmness, so tasty it must have been grown on volcanic soil fertilised by contented, opinionated cattle and cooked in water from one of those ads where the water surges free off a mountain that had trapped it since antiquity.

Dished out with shepherds pie and meat by a friendly woman named Bridie and two perfectly boiled spuds. Shur where would you get it?

You’d get it in New York. (I know. New YORK if you don’t mind). I was back over there this past week for some gigs and called into the New York Irish Centre in Queens. A lot of comedians are out of the country around St Patrick’s Day. It’s similar to the government ministers who sell Ireland as a Great Place To Do Business whereas we tell the world that everyone in the country is tapped.