I absolutely despise Christian’s wife, Lauren. I say it as well. Not to her face obviously. Sorcha goes, “Ross, you shouldn’t despise anyone.”This coming from the girl who refuses to watch anything with Jake Gyllenhaal in it because he broke Taylor Swift’s hort a life sentence ago.I’m there, “She rolls her eyes every time I open my mouth.”She’s like, “No, she doesn’t, Ross.”I’m there, “Er, she actually does? Especially when it’s in relation to rugby.”Honor says, “Why the fock are we going to their house anyway? The last time we went to one of their borbecues,” she goes, “she asked us to Revolut her €50 afterwards to pay for the meat.”I’m like, “Nail on head, Honor. Nail on literally head?”Sorcha rings the bell and Lauren answers. It’s, like, air-kisses and all the rest of it, then we follow her through the gaff and out into the back gorden, which ends up being packed with people. Christian, I notice, is flipping burgers. He’s wearing the apron with, “Prick with a fork!” on the front, which I bought him for his 40th, except he’s wearing it inside-out, presumably because Lauren has decided it’s offensive.I spot Ross jnr. He’s doing this, like, dance with three girls and they’re filming it for I’m guessing TikTok. He gives me a wave and goes, “Hi, Ross!” but I end up blanking him.No sooner have we sat down, than Lauren goes, “So, you’re probably wondering why I asked you here?”I’m there, “Er, because you’re having a borbecue, and your husband is my best friend, and you’ve known us longer than most of these knobs here.”I end up saying it louder than intended and quite a few people give me filthy looks.She goes, “It’s about the money.”Honor’s there, “Er, we haven’t eaten anything yet?”Lauren’s like, “Not that money. Ross, you set up a bank account for Ross jnr when he was born.”I’m there, “Did I?”She’s like, “Well, you said you did – at the Christening? You said you were setting up a direct debit–”“That was very generous of me.”“–and he could have the money when he was 18.”“I must have been pissed.”“Well, he’s 18 now.”I can feel the heat of, like, 50 people all of a sudden staring at me. So – yeah, no – I stand up.I’m there, “Excuse me for a minute. I need a slash,” and I tip back inside to the kitchen.Are you telling me you’ve got access to my banking?— Ross to HonorI’m actually grabbing a stick of Heinemite from the fridge when Honor suddenly appears at my side.She’s like, “Oh my God, you spent it, didn’t you?”I’m there, “It’s not that, Honor. I genuinely don’t remember saying that I’d set up an account for him. And even if I did, it’s just one of those things you say, isn’t it? Like when your Deliveroo driver asks you to give them a five-stor review and you say yes, but then you don’t bother your hole. Imagine her taking that literally.”Honor goes, “Do you want me to check?” She snatches the old Wolfe Tone out of my hand, then her little thumbs go to work.I’m there, “Are you telling me you’ve got access to my banking?”She goes, “I’m your teenage daughter, Dad. Of course I’ve got access to your banking.”And then a few seconds after that, she goes, “Oh! My God! Oh! My literally? God!”I’m like, “What?”“You did set up an account.”“Too nice for my own good – that’s me.”“Fifty euro a week.”“What a focking mug.”“For, like, 18 years.”“How much is that – as a matter of interest?”“Do the math.”“I’d prefer if you did the math.”“It’s 45 grand.”I end up nearly dropping my beer.I’m there, “45 grand? What the fock?”She’s like, “I know.”We both go quiet then.Eventually, I’m there, “I’m not giving that kid 45 grand. Not a focking chance.”She goes, “I wouldn’t let you.”I’m like, “So how am I going to get out of it?”“Okay,” she goes, “pick an orgument with Lauren. About something random. And then storm out.”I’m like, “That’s good. That’s very, very good.”All of a sudden, Sorcha joins us in the kitchen. She’s like, “What’s going on? You didn’t set up an account, did you?”I’m there, “I actually did. Fifty yoyos a week apparently. No wonder I’m always skint.” “So what’s the problem?”“It’s a lot of money, Sorcha.”“Well, it’s his money – you set it aside for him.”Honor’s there, “It’s 45 grand,” and the expression on Sorcha’s face suddenly changes.She’s like, “45–?”I’m there, “Grand. Ingtons.”She goes quiet then. She’s thinking – like the rest of us.I’m there, “Honor thinks I should maybe pick a fight Lauren and just storm out.”Ross, that money could put him through college— SorchaBut I can nearly hear the debate going on in her head. One side of her brain is thinking, “What would Sr Austrebertha do?” The other side is going, “45 grand is 45 grand.”I’m there, “Lauren wouldn’t want him to have it, Sorcha. I mean, she flipped that time I gave him five grand for his Christmas present. She said I was destroying his appreciation of the value of money. That’s a direct quote.”In the end, Sr Austrebertha wins out. She always does.Sorcha’s like, “Ross, that money could put him through college.”I’m there, “It’s 45 grand, Sorcha!”She goes, “It doesn’t matter. It’s still the right thing to do.”So – yeah, no – back outside we trot. Lauren’s like, “Is everything okay? Do you have the money?”“So,” I go, trying to change the subject, “how upset are we all about James Lowe – on a scale of one-to-Johnny-Sexton-going-to-Racing-that-time?”Suddenly, out of literally nowhere, Sorcha goes, “Lauren, why do you always do that?”Lauren’s like, “Do what?”And Sorcha goes, “You roll your eyes whenever Ross brings up the subject of rugby. And I’m absolutely sick of you doing it.”Lauren’s there, “Are you trying to pick a fight so you can get out of giving Ross jnr his money?”And Sorcha goes, “Ross, Honor, come on – we’re going home.”