The Booker and the prize as Canning on his own

THIS COLUMN bows to no man in its admiration for all things Tipperary. Clonmel Chardonnay. Liberty Square. Horse and Jockey. The list goes on and on, and is now joined by The Book.

Our love affair with the Premier took a temporary nosedive last Saturday when we tried to cross the Semple Stadium pitch after the Waterford-Offaly game (longstanding tradition usually includes ‘hallowed turf’ at this point).

No sooner had our feet landed on the sideline when a beefy hand landed on the shoulder and a rich Thurles accent asked what in the name of God we thought we were doing, etc.