It was morning in the Daily Star offices.
The editor Ger Colleran sat behind his desk.
Ger Colleran is famous in Ireland for a cowardly and grotesque lie which he perpetrated on national television a few years ago, wherewith he falsely maliciously and malignly claimed children had been sexually abused in every Catholic Church presbytery in Ireland.
As editor of a newspaper which is half owned by a British porn baron, he likes to pose as a champion of moral probity.
And he just loves to falsely impugn the faith of our fathers.
Today he was brooding over a print out of The Heelers Diaries.
A minion entered.
Like most of the younger male staff at the Daily Star, the minion was a sneaky looking piece of work in a cheap suit.
"Caruthers," murmured Ger Colleran softly. "Is it true?"
"Is what true, Sir?" answered the minion.
Ger Colleran took a deep breath.
"Am I really a slatternly vapid assinine turpitudinous egg yolk of a man?" he wondered.
The minion looked at his shoes.
"Er," he said. "Er, um, I mean, well, that is to say, I'm, eh, I'm sure, eh, I mean, who can judge, I mean, er, Heelers himself probably doesn't even know what he means by that."
Ger Colleran stared vacantly towards the window.
His vapid turpitudinous slatternly soulless egg yolk eyes were filmed with tears.