THE idea of playing professional football is a dream that every young boy is mesmerised by in their youth and the reenactments that you see of the top stars across every playground within the city and beyond is a testament to the love affair that we all have with football.

Tá bean óg a fhreastalaíonn ar an choláiste ghairmiúil Gaelchúrsaí i ndiaidh litir a scríobh chuig duine a pháirceáil a charr os comhair rochtain na gcathaoireacha rotha don choláiste.

Dr Samuel Johnson had a way with words, while at the same time being a right old eighteenth century misogynist.  On being asked his opinion of women preachers, he replied: “Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all”.

COMETH the hour cometh the apology. And the corrections. And the clarifications.I checked out of the Nolan Show some years ago because of the relentless negativity. I didn’t do it for the sake of my mental health, but I was gratified to find that mornings that began without that gulp-inducingly portentous intro and without the screeching of cats being thrown over a clothes line with their tails tied together are more pleasant and mind-kind by a factor of Jesus-how- tf-did-I-ever-stick-that?

Whatever you might think of them, it would be hard to argue against the assertion that Sinn Féin’s MaryLou McDonald and, especially, Michelle O’Neill have not put a toe wrong over the past two weeks. In touch with their constituencies and the national mood, they asserted a new politics into an old argument. At once they defended the people of the Garvaghy Road and managed to keep their obligations to their respective parliaments, and not flinch in the face of unionist and media hostility. If Sinn Féin come out top in next year’s Assembly elections, many will point to this fortnight as a significant factor. And Mícheál Martin appears to be seething.