Eoin Butler: writer, journalist and Mayoman of the Year

Tripping Along The Ledge


Published: Evening Herald, December 2007


Shelbourne Hotel, St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2

Baaam! Didn’t see that one coming, did you? It’s Friday night and I’m chilling in Ireland’s most exclusive bar. Finally, it somehow feels like I’m amongst my own kind. Before I order a drink though, I’ve got a few old scores to settle. I press the mobile phone to my ear. It’s ringing. “Hello…? Is that Moloney’s Bar & Off-Licence, Toomevara…? Just wonderin’, am I still barred there…? Er, my name is Eoin Butler… You don’t know who that is…? Well fuck you anyway, I’m having a drink in the Horseshoe Bar…. Yeah, just thought I’d let you know.”

I hang up.

Yousef is still flicking through the menu, shaking his head. I decide to make another call.

“Kathleen…? How are you…? Good… Listen, I’m in the Shelbourne Hotel at the minute… It’s in Dublin… Well, it’s very famous… Ah, you must have… On Stephen’s Green… Really posh… No?”

I change tack.

“Listen, you’re hardly interested in getting back together then, are you..? I didn’t think… You’re still seeing that fella with the Land Rover… Yeah…? Well I don’t know why I rang you now either… I will… Okay, tell your Mam I said hi… Seeya now…”

A waitress comes over and asks if we’d like to order. I tell her I’ll have a pint of Budweiser. Yousef flips the menu over a couple times more, like as if a page of reasonably priced drinks might just appear out of nowhere.

“He’ll have a pint of Bud too,” I tell the girl.

The pints cost more than twelve euros, which at this moment is close to 20% of my entire net worth. But, fuck it. We’ll make make sure and at least steal a fair few amenities before we leave…


We clink glasses. Then I pull my phone out one more time. I wait to hear her voice. Then I tell her.

“Made it, Ma… Top of the world!”

She isn’t sure who she’s talking to.

“Eoin… What…? No, your son Eoin… Yeah… Eoin Butler…”