For such a big fella, controversial entrepreneur Ben Dunne works from a surprisingly small office. Not for him the plush, perfumed, soft-carpeted, luxurious lair of the typically moneyed CEO.

Although there’s a black piano he can’t play in the corner, and some extremely pricey artworks adorning the walls (including Robert Ponsonby Staples’ Guilty or Not Guilty, a museum quality canvas), most other expenses seem to have been spared. A long, glass-windowed box, situated just to the left of the entrance of his massive warehouse-style Westpoint gym in Blanchardstown, the room doesn’t even have blinds. Any passerby can gawk in to witness the bespectacled, bullish-looking, Cork-born titan at work.
When Hot Press arrives, he’s in there finishing up a meeting with an attractive female socialite and charity organiser. She wants to take him away for ten minutes so they can be photographed together. Dunne begins to apologise for the inevitable delay, but suddenly realises there’s a photographer standing right in front of him.
“Would you mind taking a quick couple of pictures of us?” he asks snapper Mark Nixon. “Nothing fancy. I’ll pay you for them, like.”
My colleague readily agrees, and leads them out to the front lobby where there’s some natural light. The photo-shoot takes as much time as it takes me to smoke a quick B&H.
“Great stuff,” the 61-year-old says, having briefly inspected the images on the back of Nixon’s digital camera. He pulls a crinkled wedge of banknotes from his trouser pocket, peels off four €50s, and briskly hands them over. Dunne deal.
A minute or so later, we’re back in his goldfish bowl. “Do you want a cup of coffee or a water or something?” he asks. “Just some water, thanks.” “Would you mind just grabbing a couple of bottles out of that?” he nods, indicating a couple of crates of mineral water in the corner. The man’s so chilled, he doesn’t need a fridge.
“Your office isn’t quite what I expected,” I comment, trying not put my foot through a stack of oil paintings leaning against the wall. “This is my powerhouse,” Dunne explains, waving expansively around the cluttered room. “I run everything from here.”
“Does it not bother you that everyone can see in?”
He leans back in his chair and shakes his head. “It’s one of my big cribs that leaders of businesses cut themselves off, as far away as possible from their customers. But I’ve never done it. And the only other person who doesn’t do it is Michael O’Leary. Now, a lot of small businesses, obviously the owners of the businesses are very close to their customers, and I’m [in] a fairly small business. But even when I was in Dunnes Stores, I had an open-door policy. If you wanted to speak to Ben Dunne, you didn’t have to go through a layer of assistants. And I really think it’s all these layers that has the contributed to where we are today.”
Apparently his staff and customers regularly pop in for a quick word. “It happens all the time,” he shrugs. “They come into my office, and, ‘Is there any chance of a deal?’ Or, ‘I want to make a complaint’. And it could happen now while we’re here. People know that they can get to me, and I’m approachable. If the phone rings and somebody wants to speak to me, I’ll take the call and I’ll deal with it.”
Before we get properly watered and started, Dunne explains that while he’s happy to answer any reasonable questions, there are two specific areas he’d rather not delve into. The first is his kidnapping by the IRA in 1981 (he was released unharmed following six days in captivity after a ransom of €380,000 was allegedly paid).
The second, unsurprisingly, is his cocaine and hooker episode in a Florida hotel eleven years later. Dunne’s Year Zero, it was an embarrassing incident which led to him being unceremoniously ejected from the board of Dunnes Stores. When it was subsequently discovered that he’d made massive cash payments to the late Charles Haughey, a whole warren of weasels was opened. History will record that Ben Dunne’s unfortunate coke bust ultimately led to the ongoing tribunals into political corruption in Ireland.
“It’s not that I’m trying to avoid that part of my life,” he says of Florida, “but it’s so well-known at this stage, it’s kind of boring. I mean, there could be a reference made. It was one of my ‘worse-er’ moments for want of a better word, but within the picture of my whole life, it’s a very small area.”
OLAF TYARANSEN: What’s your earliest memory?
BEN DUNNE: The first real memory? I went to the Ursuline Convent, which was predominantly a girls’ school in Blackrock in Cork. And I remember the day I made my first Holy Communion, and I can’t remember why, but I remember laughing quite a lot, up at the altar while we were making our First Communion. And I remember some nun literally murdering me, for want of a better word. That’s my first recollection.
Were the Dunnes a wealthy family then?
No. We didn’t want for anything. We were a middle-class family, but not wealthy. Not by a long shot.
What kind of upbringing did you have?
I can’t say I had a normal upbringing. My father was never there because of work. He was there on Saturday nights and Sundays, but he was gone from Monday to Saturday. As a child I never went on holidays with my parents, but I had a very good home life; my mother was a very kind woman; there was six of us kids and we were fairly closely bunched. I think there was about eight or nine years between the six of us. So, as children we got on well.
Was it a given that you would go into the family business?
I didn’t particularly like school. I was quite good at maths. I could do the sums, but do them in my brain. But I was dyslexic and still am. I can read perfectly; I can’t write. The computer is very difficult for me to use. I can read emails, but if I’m sending an email I really can’t do it. I can’t spell. To try and tackle a word like – I don’t know, the simplest of words – I mean, take a word like ‘pneumonia’. I just wouldn’t know where to start. The simplest of words, I just haven’t got a clue.
What age were you when you joined the business?
I was about sixteen. I did the Inter Cert. and just about passed it. And then I spent a short time in Fifth Year, and I persuaded my father to let me go into business.
And did you have a flair for it?
I think I did. I was prepared to do all the things that had to be done. You know, it wasn’t ‘the boss’s son’. In fact, I remember going to look at the World Cup Final in 1966, and I went for lunch. And, of course, the match went into extra time. And when I came back there was a lassie – I was in the hardware department in Cork – and the lassie said to me, “While you were out having lunch the chairman was looking for you.” And I said, “For what?” “Well, he told me to tell you that if it was anybody else that took the length of time you took he’d fire them.” And that stuck in my brain. To this day I would be a very good timekeeper, and when I go for a business lunch, it’s an hour. I’m not interested in hanging around.
When was the last time you fired somebody?
Em … [long pause]. It would have been in this business… five years ago, I suppose.
Do you have a lot of staff loyalty?
It’s a hard question for me to answer, but we have a very low turnover of staff. But I don’t want to say. That’s a question I’d prefer if you asked somebody who works for me. But the indication is a very low turnover of staff.
Was religion a factor when you were growing up?
It certainly was a religious family. I remember as a kid going to Benediction every Sunday. I remember the family rosary being said, in particular when my father was around. I remember travelling with my father in the early days – I shared a room with him, and in the morning and in the evening he said the rosary. He was very religious, and my mother was. It didn’t rub off on me. I’m not religious [laughs]. I’m very Christian. I go to Mass. There’s certain times I wouldn’t miss – Easter and Christmas. I’m not very religious, but very much believe in God and Heaven and have absolutely no doubt about it.
Does that belief come from anything in particular?
I have had so many instances that only for somebody up there looking after me, I believe I wouldn’t be around.
Are we talking about the kidnapping?
Ah, I’m talking about the kidnapping, I’m talking about loads of things, I really wouldn’t know where to start. Breaks I got in business; breaks I got in life; the kidnapping; you know, there’d be so many things, and I’d say, “Jaysus, somebody must be …I mean, this didn’t just happen out of chance.” I’ll give you an example: I’m in the process of writing a book at the moment, and I wanted to visit my grandfather’s grave up in Rosstrevor, and I made the decision to go up there about four weeks ago. I picked a day because I had to give the person who is helping me to write the book – the ghost writer – plenty of notice. And I said, “I hope it’s a nice day,” to myself. And, you know, I picked a month ago, and the day we arrived up it was just Mediterranean weather. I could give you so many examples where I’d say, “Jaysus, yeah. There’s definitely somebody looking after me.”
Is your book an autobiography?
The book is about me, and about what makes me tick. Like, there has been an awful lot of things written about me, but nobody has heard it from me. And one of my sons said that it would be a pity – I’ve had a colourful life; I’ve had an interesting life; I’m still an interesting character – and it would be a pity to let all that go and have no record. And that put me thinking. Now, whether I publish the book – the first thing I’m going to do is write the book. I’ll think about the next phase when I have the book written. But certainly I want to put a record of what Ben Dunne is – what he was, and what he is now.
Do you think you’re misunderstood?
Oh absolutely, yeah. Yeah, sure I can’t understand myself sometimes [laughs].
You must have thought there were times when God was angry with you. For example, the public humiliation of your arrest in Florida.
No, I never thought that – that’s on my soul. Florida was a thing that was bound to happen somewhere. If you’re using drugs secretly, it’s going to backfire on you someday, and it just happened to be Florida.
Just how heavy was your cocaine use at the time?
Heavy enough to get myself into the trouble I got done for. I’ll give you a good example of why I believe: I have a phobia about needles. Injections, even to this day, when I’m going for blood tests – they don’t have to hold me down, but really I’m in a terrible state. So here was I using cocaine, not that I even went beyond it, but even if I did, I don’t think I could have used injections. Now, again, why is that? Do you know what I mean? My paranoia about injections. And I’m saying, “Jaysus, you know, because I could have progressed.” It’s just one of those things – I’ve used, and thanks be to God I don’t use any longer. One day at a time.
Did you do NA for that?
No. I went and I tried, but it didn’t do me any good. And a lot of NA people mightn’t like to hear this, but I went to a psychiatrist, and… in fact, the guy said, “Look” – and I’m putting this very much into shorthand for you – “you know, you’ve got a very good computer, and fortunately there hasn’t been that much damage with the software put into it. And with a little bit of work, we’ll be able to sort you out.” And that’s the way I sorted it out.
Are you good at taking instructions from other people?
I’m a very good listener. I am good at taking advice. And I’m extra good at taking advice if it’s about something that I don’t know anything about. And I couldn’t understand the drugs scene, and I started to understand the drugs scene, and I took the advice – it took time, there were backward steps and forward steps; it just doesn’t go forward all the time – and took his advice, and fortunately here I am today.
Do you drink alcohol?
Oh I do, yeah.
Do you drink a lot?
No, I drink at weekends — not even at weekends. I drink when I go out on a Saturday night. I don’t drink during the week. If I’m on holidays I’ll drink every evening. I’m a social drinker. I wouldn’t go into a pub on my own and have a drink for all the money in the world. I’m not interested. There’s drink in the house at home, and outside of Christmas Day, I’m not interested. I don’t have a drink problem. Touch wood.
What’s your take on the whole headshop/legal highs debate?
I’ve been watching and reading about it …[long pause] You’re asking me a really good question, and I’m thinking as I answer it. I think that the people who are advising on drugs don’t realise the facts. I think the amount of people who use drugs is far bigger than people think. People who use drugs – 15% of them become dependant on them. 15% - 20%. There’s 80% - 85% don’t become dependant, can use them recreationally. If you use it too much it does damage. But I think it must be very hard to understand the drugs scene if you’ve never used them yourself.
Can you elaborate?
I’m one of these believers that you can speak to people. I mean, there’ll be young people reading this article. And if two people die with the ecstasy pills or whatever, and if I was a young person today and if I was using this stuff, and using it recreationally, I think the young person would be saying, “Yeah, two people die using that blooming stuff, but there’s thousands die using drink.” Like, there’s no logic in the way it’s being handled. It took a long time to teach the population of this country that the right thing to do is put on your seatbelt. And everybody does it now. Even if I’m going from here over to the shopping centre, I put on the seatbelt. But we had to educate people. And we have to educate people. Everything in moderation. I’m telling you – everything in moderation. Well, I won’t say ‘everything’, but a lot of things in moderation are okay if people want to use them. But I think that when it comes to drugs, I think that a lot of people who are advising, and talking, really don’t know the scene.
When you were using cocaine, I presume you weren’t out buying it in a pub or hanging around street corners.
No.
I presume somebody was getting it for you.
Yeah. It was as easy to get as buying a packet of cigarettes.
Were you buying coke by the ounce?
I’d buy a little bag of it. I mean, to tell you the truth, I don’t know. I wasn’t on it every day of the week or anything like that, but when I was arrested in Florida, I had more than was usual. I could have been caught for trafficking because I had that much. And, lucky for me, they raided the room without a warrant. And so it wasn’t admissible. But if they had a warrant and raided my room, I was three years mandatory in jail. Now, there you go again! Who saved me there? As you are writing the article you might just take that into account. There’s things like that, that have happened during my lifetime, and I have said, “Jaysus, somebody had to be looking after me.”
Do you think drugs like cocaine should be legalised in order to take the market out of the hands of criminal gangs?
I’m not going to say. I’m not going to answer that question because I don’t know. But I think what we have to understand is the amount of people who use drugs recreationally. That’s the first thing. But I definitely think people should be educated, and educated in a way that not using a seatbelt was not doing you any good. Using drugs… I mean, I think the young people must laugh when they see that it’s illegal to smoke marijuana. They must really laugh. I mean, I’m 61 years of age, but I’m thinking of the twenty-odd year-olds who are going to one of these big festivals and they’re smoking marijuana. They must laugh at the politicians and the so-called leadership in this country who say, “This is wrong.”
Was there some personal strife or unhappiness driving your own drug use at that time?
Yeah. I would think, my place of work. No doubt about it.
You were unhappy in Dunnes Stores?
Yeah, it was a very difficult place. I was always somebody who liked to speak my mind. So if the media rang up about something, everything had to be, “Look, I’ll tell ya off the record.” And, you know, it was all this. And I used to say to myself, “What in the name of Jaysus! Why won’t somebody talk to the media? Why are we all hiding?” And then there was the internal politics in the family – yet we all had to pretend to be a big, happy, united family. But there’s no such thing as a big, happy, united family. And you had to project this blooming thing and it just didn’t work with me. And I have no doubt in my mind – and I get on with my family, I’m not blaming my family for any of this – but I have no doubt that if I had stayed there I wouldn’t have survived it. No question. I wouldn’t have been able to cope.
Were you sad when Charlie Haughey died?
I was sad, yeah. But . . . sad [shrugs].
Do you think he deserved a State funeral?
Yeah, I do. Haughey had a huge flaw, as I know at this stage. And it was greed. But it now transpires that Haughey’s greed was nothing in comparison to the greed that we’ve seen in this country over the last ten or fifteen years, where people, bankers, and builders – and I’m not trying to point the finger at anybody – but where a section of society – mainly through greed – have left us, and my children, and our grandchildren with a huge debt to pay. And, you know, blaming Lehman Brothers, or world events – we had regulators who didn’t do the job; we had boards of banks who didn’t do their job. I mean, to lend a billion, in this little country, to an individual, you have to be completely off your rocker.
But were you not part of this circle of people?
No. I’m not in NAMA.
Okay, you’re not a property developer, but I thought, at least socially, you’d have known these people?
No, no [shakes head vehemently].
Would you have been an outsider to them?
I wouldn’t be an outsider, I just don’t know them. I was through all of that in the ‘80s, blowing money. But the difference is I was making money. I owned a big chunk of Dunnes Stores, so it was my own money I was blowing. And this time, these people have blown our money. And I certainly would be very annoyed at the way these people are being bailed out. I don’t understand it. I really don’t. And just because everybody else was doing it in every other country in the Western world – sure, I could have kept on that road and said, “You know, everybody else is using cocaine, why the fuckin’ hell should I have to give it up?” I knew I had to give it up because it was going to give me up. I was going to kill myself. It’s shocking to see the state we’re in.
How important is money to you personally?
It’s an ingredient. An ingredient. But there are ingredients in my life that you can live without, and money – you could certainly do without a lot of it.
You’ve been a multi-millionaire for as long as I can remember.
When I got married I lived in an apartment in Waterloo Road. When I bought my house in 1973, my father had to give me half, and the bank had to give me the other half. So I didn’t have money then.
So you’re saying you know what it’s like not to have money?
No, not what it’s like to have none at all. You know, there’s people in this country who have to live on €180 a week. I never knew that. But I certainly knew running out of money by Thursday. And I remember going on holidays, and into your second week really cutting back because you were running out of money. So I did go through that experience.
What’s your opinion on Brian Cowen as Taoiseach?
Well, he has taken over, and the country is in a bad shape. And he was, kind of, the financial director – if you look at it as a company – and he then took over as CEO. And history will judge him.
If Ireland Inc. was your company, would you fire him?
Absolutely! In fact, if this was Ireland Inc., I’d say most fellas would nearly say, “Look, I’ll resign. I’m not able.” I’m looking at the guy who is head of BP, [Tony] Hayward. And he went in front of the US Congress and made a complete eejit of himself. He won’t be around much longer. He really didn’t know what he was talking about – because an awful lot of CEOs don’t. But I’d far prefer to leave rather than be kicked out. And, you know, Brian Cowen is a nice man, but – I don’t know who is going to sort this country out, but the one thing that you do need is the support of the people. And that doesn’t appear to be around at the moment.
Do you think that Kenny or Gilmore are credible alternatives as leaders?
I don’t think that any democratically-elected government can create wealth. Like, all the government can do is dish out the things they dish out, and run the policing, and collect taxes. But they can’t run businesses. So I think that the government took far too much credit, and now they are paying the price for taking that credit. And if you take the credit, when it goes the other way you’ve got to take the downside.
What’s the most important quality a business leader can have?
He’s got to be able to communicate, because without communication you will lack information, you will lack the knowledge. And I mean communicate with all levels in your organisation. But communication is the most important thing. And be approachable. That’s my belief.
Do you have a temper?
Do I have a temper? Yeah, everybody has a temper.
Okay, do you have a bad temper?
Not a bad one, no. Not a bad one. My bark is ten times worse than my bite, if you know what I mean.
Would you describe yourself as ruthless in business?
If I have to be.
I’m thinking about something like the way you handled the strike in Dunne’s Stores in the 1980s, when a group of workers refused to handle South African goods.
There was 15, was it, on strike? Fifteen girls and a couple of…girls and guys. And out of how many? We had 5,000 people working at the time. I don’t know the exact figures. But these people chose not to handle South African goods. And at the time there was a lot of trouble between Ireland and England. The Troubles were at their height. And my position was clear, that if it starts with South African goods today it could be English goods tomorrow. Let the government make the decision. I don’t think we should make the decision. And, you know, others did. Other organisations said they wouldn’t handle South African goods. But we made a decision as a company, “Look, we can’t allow people dictate what goods we are going to sell” I never stood up for apartheid in my life, and was against it, but I wasn’t going to be the judge of what we sell. It could be Russian oil.
But if the government made that decision . . .
They did, eventually.
Did you not think, “Well, who the fuck are they to make that decision?”
No. If the government make it, it’s law. I mean, I won’t break the law, if possible. So all I was trying to do was say, “Look, make it law that we can’t sell South African goods, and we won’t sell them.” In fact, I had a big meeting with the Church, and there was some senior personnel, and I remember being summoned into this meeting, and they said to me, you know, their position and that they were very much on the girls’ side. And I said, “I can understand.” And they said, “You must stop selling South African goods.” I said, “You know, we can start here.” I said, “We’re all wearing [South African] gold.” I had a gold watch, and they had gold rings, and their church was full of gold. And I said, ‘Why don’t we start now?” And the Church didn’t like what I said. The senior personnel didn’t like it, and the meeting ended fairly abruptly. But, you know, if the Church were so strong about not handling South African goods why not throw all the gold out of their church, and get rid of all their rings?
Do you think there’s too much red tape in Irish business?
Absolutely.
What would you do to change it?
I’d start at the top. Like, we have too many TDs. We have too many assistants. You have a head, you have an assistant, you have a deputy. I mean, I would just revolutionise it. This is only a small country. In around 1949, the year I was born – Noel Browne, a Labour minister wrote a book about that time, Against The Tide, and I think the budget in 1948/49/50 – to run Ireland was fifty million. It was heading to fifty billion in the mid/early 2000s. It’s just hard to believe that within my lifetime, we have gone from a million a week to a billion a week – a thousand million a week!
Let’s talk about Bendunne.com. Are you very internet savvy?
No [laughs].
Do you have a Facebook page?
No. I didn’t know how to turn on a computer – I learned to turn on a computer when I was asked by The Sun newspaper to do a column for them. And that was about this time last year. And then I got my computer, and I can turn it on, I can read my emails. I can’t send the blessed things.
So do you actually write the column, then?
Oh, I do, yeah. I do it every week.
Do you enjoy being a public figure?
It doesn’t bother me. I don’t work on being a public figure. I could be giving interviews, certainly once a month, and I could be at functions, and I could be speaking here and speaking there, and I could be on television programmes. But I don’t do a lot of it. But I have this public figure image, and it can’t still be because of Florida. You know, that’s well and truly gone now. But it doesn’t bother me, having it.
How about the gym business. Do you actually use the gym yourself?
Oh, I do yeah, but not often enough. But this business is growing exceptionally well. We have four. And we are opening another one in Jervis Street. We have one in Germany, in Essen, and the other one is opening in Münster. And we are opening two in Liverpool.
So it’s becoming an international business?
You see, this does travel. It’s not like having a chain of stores, and the climate is different if you go to the continent. If you are in Spain you are going to sell far more summer merchandise in Spain than you are going to in Ireland. But this thing travels very well. And it suits my type of business, because my big strengths are price and quality. And we are winning hands down on price and quality, and we put in the best equipment. We pay way above the minimum rate of pay. We only ask people to do one weekend in three. There is nobody in this organisation that doesn’t get two days off in a row. I wouldn’t have anybody in my business who – if they’re working a five-day week – they get one day [on] one, and another day, another. In my business, everybody gets two weekends out of three off. That’s the way I run the business.
What do you think of Bill Cullen’s advice that young people should be getting up at six in the morning, and basically working for nothing, and staying on until nine o’clock at night?
Bull! Absolute bull!
Well, that’s his message.
Bull! I wanna tell ya, if you want people to work for nothing… pay peanuts, you get monkeys. And Bill Cullen is in the past when he says that. It’s an insult to ask somebody to work for nothing. And I’d be ashamed to say it, and I’m glad I’m getting an opportunity to criticise him for it.
You’re not a fan, then?
I think Bill Cullen is a really nice operator. He’s a good man, and we all have our weaknesses – I have mine – and Bill Cullen saying that, he is wrong there. To try and bring a bit of spirit out in people, and to be saying go out and work for nothing, and it coming from a man who has a high profile, and has built an organisation, and he’ll say, well, that’s the way he done it. Well, you know, my approach to life is that I copy people’s good ideas. My father was a brilliant businessman, but I only copied his good ideas. I didn’t copy all his ideas.
What’s been your biggest mistake?
Hurting my wife and children, the time in Florida. Has to be that.
Is that all healed now?
Oh, yeah, we get on famously well.
Your son has just recently broken up with his wife. I don’t want to talk about that, specifically – but, do you think the nature of relationships in Ireland has changed a lot?
Well, human behaviour has changed a lot in the last 20 years. I put a huge emphasis on family life. Today – like, when I was going to school, and I’m not saying it was right, but I’m saying it was very few who you’d meet whose parents weren’t together. But today it’s so normal for kids that their mum and dad don’t live together, it’s not like it used to be.
When was the last time you shed a tear?
Oh, regularly.
Are you that emotional?
I go to a funeral, I know somebody; certain songs will make me shed a tear. I’m not sure the word ‘emotional’ right, but do I cry? Yeah. And I’m not ashamed to cry. If I have a row with one of my kids I’m quite capable of being very upset.
Do you often row with your kids?
No. No. I’m a father and I have great communication with them, and sometimes I might have words, and because the communication is so good there’s words back. And it does have an effect on me.
What kind of music do you like?
Well, I like Irish traditional music; I like Neil Diamond-type music; I like Country-and-Western music; I like REM, I particularly like some of their songs. I’d be a far bigger television fan, than music, but I like listening to music. There are songs that if they come on the radio and if I’m in the car, they can really hit me. And I’ll turn the volume up, and I really will enjoy that song. And some of them could be, you know, a jizzy sort of thing; some of them could be love songs. I’m not a music collector, but I do like music, yeah.
Do you like reading?
I do. I love history – Irish history; I like reading about Napoleon; I like American history; I love visiting museums; I go to Rome religiously twice a year sight-seeing. I really love Rome. I suppose my favourite city outside of Ireland would be London, but if I could speak Italian I would put Rome as the place where I would most like to be. But I can’t speak Italian. I’m not going to take it up at this stage.
What’s your favourite city in Ireland?
Galway.
I thought you’d say Cork.
No, Galway. If I had a free hand, I’d live in the West of Ireland. Connemara. With the network of roads and flights and all sorts of things I would still commute. And I love it whether the weather is good or bad. I love the people over there. It’s my favourite spot. I don’t spend enough time there.
You were also going to open a graveyard in London. What happened there?
Yeah, I didn’t open it. I have twenty acres over there. I have been offered a lot of money for it.
You only paid £3 million for it, didn’t you?
Correct.
So, it’s worth an awful lot more now, I presume?
Well, look, I’ve been offered a big profit on it, but I haven’t got an offer yet without an attachment to it. I want a non-conditional offer. There’s a cheque and I’ll give you the title. And people turn around and …that’s what got this country where it is, you know, doing this with people. I’m not turning around and saying, “Well that’s another X million that I have.”
Who is your personal hero?
That’s a hard one. I’d have an awful lot of time for my father. I’d have an awful lot of time for Michael O’Leary. I had an awful lot of time for [Jury’s hotelier] PV Doyle, who was like a second father to me. But it’s not a thing I’d think a lot of. I’m naming those people because I really respect those people. There’s lots of other ordinary people that I would have an awful lot of respect for, and they would be as big a hero to me as those people. But I’m not a ‘hero’ man, if you know what I mean.
Finally, do you have a motto in life?
Yeah. Don’t walk down the middle of the road.
Explain that to me.
Well, you’ll certainly get knocked down! [laughs]. So that’s what I say when somebody is in here, and I say, “Look, what you’re doing is you’re walking down the middle of the road.” You’re a racing certainty to get killed there. It’s happening every day of the week. You know, people are walking down the middle of the road and they wonder why they fuckin’ aren’t getting anywhere without getting knocked down!

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