It wants to be The Poor Mouth but instead just falls short of Arthur Mathews’ wonderful Well Remembered Days. There’s more than a hint of Ignatius Reilly about Fiachra MacFiach and thankfully the narrative is brisk enough that some of the weaker gags don’t need to worry about not landing because a better one is imminent. The sustained jokes about Fiachra’s confusion about Seamus Heaney is wonderful, but the best joke is a totally mad thing on page 23 about his brother Fats that I think I will come back to many, many times. Great fun
One of the funniest books I’ve ever read, only just came to mind again all these years later when I found a new novel by the same writer. Which I immediately purchased. And am currently reading and very much enjoying. He has a wickedly inventive sense of humour.