The cracks behind the craic where the draught gets in |
GROWING up, I would hear my granny saying “Ock, I wish God had made me rich instead of good looking!” and it always made me chuckle – especially when she said it while handing me a few quid.
Plus, it embedded the idea that all our attributes come from God, with which I still agree.
I used to dabble in the ongoing existential arguments among theologists and scientists alike, before inevitably feeling as though my brain had too many tabs open and I wanted to close them all with wine, hence the alcoholism.
Whether it’s genetics or God’s will, we all know it’s a miracle that we even managed to get here – and while some people are fortunate to inherit a bit of property or an heirloom via their bloodline, I got depression, anxiety and a sense of humour.
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I suppose the silver lining is that nobody in the family is envious of me for these little gifts, and you can’t gamble away a panic attack or have your laugh repossessed.
People are often shocked when I tell them how I occasionally become haunted by ‘the black dog’ – after all, I make a living as a stand-up comic, the craic-bringer, the one who is always ready with a........