Bøger af Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

'So there I was, roysh, putting the 'in' in 'in crowd' ... But being a schools rugby legend has its downsides.' This is where it all began: the formation of the phenomenon that is Ross O'Carroll-Kelly. With a new introduction by Paul Howard, Ross's representative on, loike, earth?

The final instalment in the Ross O'Carroll-Kelly series* * * It looked like it was Game Over for the Rossmeister General.I was staring down the barrel of the big four-oh! And what did I have to show for it?I was an out-of-work rugby coach who was soon to be divorced. My old dear was sliding away in a nursing home in a certain suburb of West Dublin. And my old man had brought the country to the verge of, like, nuclear annihilation.And if that wasn't bad enough, my teenage daughter was in love again. My sister-in-law was about to give birth to a baby that was possibly mine. And Castlerock College was about to go - I can't even say the word - co-ed.People kept saying that we were facing Ormageddon. But I was like, 'Hey, it's not the end of the world.'Because Father Fehily used to say, 'Sometimes good things come to an end so that better things can come to a beginning.'* * *'Ross is a national institution' Irish Times 'One of the funniest writers in the land' Irish Independent 'I hope this series runs for decades' Belfast Telegraph 'An extraordinary run of sustained comedic excellence . . . brilliant' Irish Times

'Ireland's finest comic creation since Father Ted' Hot PressI was a rugby player with a great future behind me. A 35-year-old father-of-five with an expanding waistline, who was trying to survive the bloody battlefield we call life. My son was locked in a violent turf war with a rival Love/Hate tour operator, my daughter was in love with a boy who looked like Justin Bieber, and my old dear was about to walk up the aisle with a 92-year-old billionaire who thought it was still 1936.I was, like, staring down the barrel of middle age with the contentment of knowing that I was the greatest Irish rugby player who no one in Ireland had ever actually heard of. Until a chance conversation with an old Jesuit missionary made me realize that it wasn't enough.I was guided, as if by GPS, to a muddy field in - let's be honest - Ballybrack. And there I finally discovered my destiny - to keep a struggling Seapoint team in Division 2B of the All Ireland League. Or die trying.'Hides a heart of darkness beneath the layers of craic and great gas and great story-telling and human warmth. Ross O'Carroll-Kelly is Ireland!' Irish Times'A cracking and hilariously witty read' Irish Independent'Book after book, Ross O'Carroll-Kelly delivers the goods ... Howard is in a league of his own' Sunday Business Post

Like the great Jesus Christ himself, I had a lot of shit on my mind when I hit 33 ...I had three new-born future Ireland internationals to feed, a daughter in need of psychiatric evaluation and a teenage son obsessed with uncovering the shameful secrets of our family's 1916 past.Throw into the mix a sister missing in Orgentina, a wife struggling to lose the weight from her orse and an interfering father-in-law living under my roof.You can see why, like the Son of God, my life had become a major hassle.And just when I thought it couldn't get any more difficult, a moment of madness involving - what else? - the opposite sex persuaded Sorcha that I needed to have the unkindest cut of all.Seedless in Seattle is the fifteenth novel in Paul Howard's 'Ross O'Carroll-Kelly' series. Ross books - annual No 1 best-sellers - have sold over half a million copies, are annually nominated for the Popular Fiction prize at the Irish Book Awards - where they have won the prize an unprecedented three times - and are also critically acclaimed as satirical masterpieces.

My friend, Fionn, was being held hostage in, I don't know, Unganga Nanga, and the Government was refusing to send in a team of marines to extract him. Pack of focking cauliflower worriers ...I wouldn't have minded being bound and gagged in a basement - just for some peace and quiet. My wife was up the spout again. My daughter had grown into a mix between Suri Cruise and a Chucky doll. And one or two other chickens - well, birds - were coming home to roost.Suddenly, I realized what I had to do - go and get Fionn back.Except what I didn't realize was that Unganga Nanga was no country for old tens.

'So there I was, roysh, enjoying college life, college birds and, like, a major amount of socialising.' Can Ross survive outside Castlerock College?

Since inheriting a pile in Killiney, Ross O'Carroll-Kelly - schools rugby legend, lover of the ladeez and award-winning author - can add a new string to his not inconsiderable (you know what I mean) bow - lord of the manor. Downturn Abbey is the story of how he tackles his new responsibilities. Or not.The century is not yet a teenager, yet everything is shrouded in gloom. People are tightening their belts, rationing and making do. Across Europe, there is uncertainty, with the possibility of, like, serious conflict hanging in the air. Yet, amidst the splendour of Honalee - a mock-something-or-other mansion that Ross and Sorcha recently inherited - life goes on.The world is changing quickly - especially for Ross. As he stares down the barrel of middle age, he has decided that it's time to possibly do right by Sorcha and put their marriage back together.But he has even bigger challenges to face. His son has hitched his future to a family of commoners, his old dear is involved in a love affair that threatens disgrace for the family, and his daughter has turned into the worst little madam you can imagine. Oh, yeah, and he is about to become a grandfather at 31.As Sorcha embraces her new life of afternoon teas on fine bone china plates and Downton Abbey theme porties, he is suddenly wrestling with duty, loyalty and the thousands of women out there who still desire the pleasure of his company.Downturn Abbey is the thirteenth novel in Paul Howard's 'Ross O'Carroll-Kelly' series. Ross books - annual No 1 bestsellers - have sold over half a million copies, are annually nominated for the Popular Fiction prize at the Irish Book Awards - where they have twice won the prize - and are also critically acclaimed as satirical masterpieces. Titles include The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightdress, Should have Got off at Sydney Parade, This Champagne Mojito is the Last Thing I Own, Rhino What You Did Last Summer, NAMA Mia!, The Oh My God Delusion (chosen as Ireland's favourite book in Eason's 2011 125th birthday poll) and The Shelbourne Ultimatum.

After his brush with death Ross O'Carroll-Kelly - schools rugby legend, award-winning author and lover of the ladeez - is back with a renewed lust for life - all thrillingly revealed in The Shelbourne Ultimatum.Ross wakes up from his coma to find a country that has changed beyond recognition. Shrewsbury Road has become a ghost estate. Marks and Spencer are selling microwavable coddle. And a Euro discount store is about to open in the Powerscourt Townhouse Centre. And he was only unconscious for twenty-four hours.But never mind all that. The main thing is that whoever tried to kill him missed all his vital organs. All his vital organs. And having had such a lucky escape Ross vows not to waste another minute of his life. There are thousands of women out there and just one Ross to go around. He needs to focus.Of course, life gets in the way. He has a daughter who hates him, a son who is growing up way too fast and a soon-to-be-ex wife who is resorting to increasingly desperate measures to stop the bank from repossessing the house. Oh, and the Gords - get this! - think he's lying to them.Lying? Ross?'Ross's misadventures and on-the-nose observations never fail to provoke a laugh-out-loud reaction ... bursting at the seams with spot-on parody' Irish Times'Will leave you with pains in your cheeks from laughing' RT GuideThe Shelbourne Ultimatum is the twelfth novel in Paul Howard's 'Ross O'Carroll-Kelly' series. Ross books have sold half a million copies, are annually nominated for the Popular Fiction prize at the Irish Book Awards - where they have twice won the prize - and are also critically acclaimed as satirical masterpieces. Titles include The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightdress, Should have Got off at Sydney Parade, This Champagne Mojito is the Last Thing I Own, Rhino What You Did Last Summer, NAMA Mia! and The Oh My God Delusion. The last of these was chosen as Ireland's favourite book in Eason's 125th birthday poll.

So there I was, roysh, twenty-three years of age, still, like, gorgeous and rich ... when all of a sudden life becomes a total mare. With a new introduction by Paul Howard, Ross's representative on, loike, earth.

It was no country for young men. Or women ...Unemployment, emigration and do-it-yourself hair colour kits were once again a fact of life. Taxes were on the up, the IMF were on the way and there was a cash for gold outlet in Foxrock Village.But the signs for recovery were good - for me, at least. I was the chief executive of one of the few businesses turning a profit in this town, a shredding company helping to dispose of the Celtic Tiger's dirty little secrets. And I was getting plenty of love action - as the boy-toy of an attractive sixty-year-old woman who was totally rolling in it. I never imagined myself ending up as a gigolo. But, as the saying goes, where there's a will, there's a way-hey-hey!With presents galore, sex on demand and a hot meal on the table every night, life was storting to look up again. All I had to do to aovid focking it up was to keep my chinos buttoned. And, well, you can probably guess how that went.

Sportsman. Lover. Bon viviant. Cad. Ross O'Carroll-Kelly is many things to many people. But ten years after he lifted the Leinster Schools Senior Cup, Ireland's most beloved rogue remains one of its most misunderstood figures. His accomplishments on the rugby field - and in the bedroom - remain the stuff of legend, but the truth about him remains hidden by the accretion of myth.Now, for the first time, the lid is lifted on the enigma that is South Dublin's most eligible married man. In more than a hundred interviews with his family and friends - those who've loved him, hated him and slept with him - the first ever composite portrait of the Celtic Tiger's most famous cub emerges.From the mother who didn't want him to the father who wanted him too much, from the friends who shared his misadventures to the women who shared his bed - or, failing that, a back alley or bus shelter - this searingly honest biography fills in all the blanks in the life of the self-styled Cock of Foxrock.

Fame. Fortune. Screaming girls. The adoration of strangers. I've had it all before, yet nothing could have prepared this Horny Little Devil for his new life in the City of Angels. Sacked as the coach of the Andorra rugby team and on the run from the sister I never knew I had, I decided to head west, vowing to win back my wife and daughter from a risk assessor predicting economic doom for the world. Imagine my shock when I discovered that my old dear, on a nationwide book tour, was already busy charming America out of its collective elasticated pants.With Trevion, a 1991 Gulf War-veteran-turned-celebrity-Svengali, on my side, not to mention my brand new bromance with a gym instructor called Harvey, I was determined to become more famous than even her. But one nose job and one abdominal resculpt later, I no longer knew where reality ended and reality TV began ...

Ross O'Carroll-Kelly thought he had it all:Nice gaff, cool cor, plenty of dosh, a stake in Dublin's trendiest nightclub and a face that made boyfriends jealous. To say nothing of a beautiful wife and kids ...All that remained was for him to totally fock it up:And I mean, totally ...But did he see it coming? Of course not - too busy using his killer lines on the Seoige sisters:And then it hit me, all at once, on a lonely night in the Ice Bar ...

Ross O'Carroll-Kelly is broke and out of love. His wife has gone to America, taking his daughter with him; his mother has become a celebrity chef on daytime television, with a particular skill for handling phallic ingredients; and his father continues to languish in Mountjoy Jail.To cap it all, Immaculata, a Nigerian girl whom his wife, Sorcha, has been sponsoring by direct debit for fifteen years, has turned up on his doorstep. Things couldn t get worse.But the long road back begins high in the Pyrenees, in the tax haven of Andorra, where Ross must spread the Gospel of rugby to the strange, primitive natives who have only ever heard of soccer, skiing and duty free shopping. There he meets Conchita, a beautiful, sultry psychoanalyst, who persuades him to look inwards and find out what it is that makes him tick. Sorry, thick.

Ross O'Carroll-Kelly thought he knew all he needed to about women's bodies ... So there I was, roysh, in a state of basically very blissful ignorance, when suddenly Sorcha's up the Damien and I have to listen to, like, women's stuff. And now he's getting a biology lesson he could have SO lived without ... I am telling you, roysh, I never even knew nipples could crack and I was very happy not knowing it. I mean, all I knew about the whole scenario was six seconds of seriously good loving, and now I'm basically expected to be an expert on how to, like, breathe like Dorth Vader and deal with baby turds.Sometimes, life just isn't fair to the babe magnet supremo ... This is SO not good for my rep - but do you think Sorcha even, like, cares about that? Not focking likely!

So there I was roysh, life focked, reputation focked, finances focked - everything completely focked, roysh, and we're talking big time. And it's all Fionn's fault, basically. He's the four-eyed focker who told me that, like, the first time you do it, roysh, you're firing blanks. Like an unloaded Uzi - seriously impressive, hard as fock and totally ready for action, but the safety's, like, on, you know. Well that was a pile of stinking turds for storters. And of course it's muggins here who ends up with the kid - life is SO focking unfair. On top of all that, roysh, the goys stort to, like, totally lose it - JP has gone all Jesus on my orse, Oisinn is basically trying to fock over Interpol and Christian is talking about weddings and, I don't know, love and stuff. I mean, I am seriously beginning to feel like I am the only good-looking, loaded, sane goy in the whole of, like, Dublin.