Take a good look at Dick Kerrigan’s happy mugshot here.
Sure, the man has everyone in Greystones, Kilcoole, Delgany, Killincarrig and beyond fooled into believin’ that he’s just a sweet old man who would do anything for anyone, anytime, anywhere.
Well, anywhere except Bray, of course.
But, we know better. We here at GG HQ know the dark truth.
Richard Ignatius Horatio Bartholomew Candy Kerrigan is from The People’s Republic of Cork.
Say. No. More.
Worse, he grew up in Cork after a stint in Carlow and Thurles. A lethal culchie combination.
It means the man is merely a ticking timebomb, cocked and ready to kick off all sorts of shillelagh shenanigans at the drop of a trilby.
For the past 39 years, since Dick made the move to Greystones, he’s been on his best behaviour, of course, working diligently for his community, and his church, whilst bringing up seven strapping children with his now dearly departed wife, Philomena, but the man’s just biding his time.
Ready. Waiting. To unleash hell.
So, for now, we’re willing to play along and pretend Dick is just a sweet old, fun-lovin’, pint-suppin’, organ-playing diamond geezer. We too are biding our time. Ready. Waiting. To lock horns with – gulp! – a Corkonian.
And to push the pretence that all is rosy in the Dickus Mickus garden, we’ve decided to print here, in full, a special family ballad – they’re a musical bunch, those Kerrigans – composed just a few years back to celebrate the man’s 80th birthday…
Just remember, Kerrigan. We’re watching you.