“What the hell are you doing?” my brother demanded when he walked into the living room on Sunday night. Mam and Dad had gone out for a drink, and Joey and I were thrown down on the couch, watching You’re A Star on RTE, and arguing over who we thought should win the singing competition. I was rooting for the siblings from Westmeath, while Joey was rooting for an aneurysm to put him out of his misery, or so he continued to tell me. Secretly, I think he liked the siblings, too.
