My wife was pregnant with a baby that possibly wasn't mine. My old man was engaged in a war with the feminist movement that he was never going to win. And my old dear was making a lot of unexplained trips to Russia.

Throw into the mix an eldest son with a possible sex addiction and three infant sons who were so thick they made me look like Edward Einstein. I might have actually gone over the edge if it wasn't for the belief of my daughter and the challenge of helping her win the greatest prize that South Dublin has to offer - the Strictly Mount Anville glitter ball.