o'reilly goin croakies

Tony O'Reilly lies on his bed.
He is alive but only just.
His life's work is in tatters.
He has lived to see the company he manipulated for forty years, the atheistic abortionist anti Catholic Independent Newspapers group, stolen from beneath his nose by a bigger thief than himself.
But this is not what's worrying him.
Tonight he faces death.
The breath mask has been removed.
His son Gavin is holding his hand.
The room is silent except for the laboured breathing of the once feared newspaper baron and captain of industry.
In the stillness, his breathing becomes slightly more laboured.
O'Reilly moans.
His son leans close.
"It's okay, Dad, it's okay," says Gavin.
"No," says O'Reilly."
"Be at peace Dad," says Gavin.
"No," says O'Reilly.
"You've nothing to regret Dad," says Gavin. "You are a great man."
"No," says O'Reilly."
He is staring into the distance.
"Gavin," he whispers.
"Yes Dad," says Gavin.
"Do you know what I'd change if I could do it all again?" whispers O'Reilly.
"You don't need to change anything Dad," says Gavin.
The old man groans before resuming ever more breathlessly.
"I'd divest from Independent Newspapers," he rasps. "I'd divest from all those companies I stole. I'd spurn the hoormaster cravens I formerly worshipped. Then I'd go to the internet and seek an alliance with James Healy. I'd join him on his blog to fight abortion and defend the ancient Church. From there I'd make my stand, defy existence and seek redemption for my damned soul."