The mass cards and letters of sympathy are still coming in. Many seem to be under the impression that I have crossed the great divide. I suppose there’s a certain amount of truth to that; in my absence I crossed the great divide between Kilkenny and Tipperary.

However, as time has gone by and the nature of my illness has come more and more into the public domain, the nature of the correspondence has also changed. If I was given a bob for every piece of advice I’ve been given, I’d be a rich man.

As you know, I had a bit of a problem with the nerves after the election and while I did the sensible thing and sought professional support, I’m getting a mountain of alternative prescriptions and remedies from all kinds of quarters. These cures vary from boiling nettles in a mare’s urine to getting married and joining Fianna Fáil. Each one, on its own, is a recipe for another nervous breakdown.

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The state of my health and my absence have become the source of a lot of comment in the local papers and it was only a matter of time before Willy De Wig Ryan of De Sticks FM would want an interview. After avoiding him for the most of two weeks, I eventually had no choice but to face the microphone. I decided it was better to go into the studio where I could eyeball the hoor because you wouldn’t know what kind of a trap he’d spring on you when he has you at the end of a phone and live on air.

I got to the studio on the appointed morning and as I waited to go on, I began to fear that my featuring on the programme mightn’t be the smartest of moves on my part. De Wig was in bad humour and was taking it out on everyone. Cantillon was right when he compared him to a cantankerous ginnett who is liable to kick the traces without warning, anytime and place and anywhere.

The host was having a right go at poor auld Maggie Callinan of Rathbinnis as she was interviewed over the phone about the upcoming Rathbinnis Bumble Bee Festival.

“What kind of a kiss-my-backside festival is that?” he asked. “The Bumble Bee Festival? It’s just another excuse for drinkin’, carryin’ on and collectin’ money.”

“Excuse me,” says Maggie, “but this is a festival to honour and promote awareness about one of the most important insects in our ecosystem.”

“The only thing I need to know about bumble bees,” says De Wig, “is that they can give you one hoor of a sting. I stay away from them and I certainly hope they’ll stay away from me. You won’t find me anywhere near Rathbinnis this weekend, I’ll be out on my back porch in my shorts.”

“You’ll be no loss,” says Maggie, “and I only hope a bee finds its way up the leg of the shorts and stings you where the sun don’t shine – and that you may swell up and burst.”

The line went dead and De Wig said: “That was Maggie Callinan in Rathbinnis with a thought for the day.”

Then it was my turn.

Airwave encounter

“I’m joined in studio now by a man who is no stranger to us here on De Sticks FM, Councillor Maurice Hickey. Recently re-elected to the council, Maurice is back at work after a short illness. Maurice, what happened?”

“Well, to put it briefly, Willy,” says I, “I was suffering from nervous exhaustion.”

“And how did you manage to get that?”

“I don’t know really ...”

“And neither does anyone else,” he interrupted. “I always imagined that nervous exhaustion only afflicted the kind of a fella who does a day’s work occasionally, and to be perfectly honest, Maurice, you don’t fit that description.”

I knew I should’ve stayed at home in bed – he was out for me.

“Work has nothing to do with it,” I answered. “Many people come to a point in their lives when they ask: ‘What’s it all about?’ If they are not careful, they can lose their confidence and their belief in themselves – it’s called an existential crisis, Willy.”

“That’s not a crisis,” says he. “It sounds to me like an ailment that’s caused by havin’ too much time on your hands.”

“Ah but Willy,” says I, “highly successful people often find this hard to understand. Especially people like yourself who have reached the pinnacle of their career broadcasting to bushes and briars from a disused hairdressing salon in downtown Honetyne. On the face of it, you have no reason to ask what’s it all about – you have it made, Willy.”

As De Wig ended the interview and took an ad break, I left the studio with a smirk on my face a mile wide.