Fifteen minutes after Niamh Horan leaves my hotel bedroom, the 31-year-old Sunday Independent writer sends me a text. “You know what? The guy who approached the prostitute last night on Baggot St? I could have sworn he was in the lift with me on the way down. The way he did a double take at me, too. Very weird moment.”

It’s shortly after 9am on a weird Saturday morning in Dublin. Having postponed the interview twice, Horan had eventually agreed to meet in my hotel at the ungodly hour of 8am. She was profusely apologetic. A sudden lead to do with a big story she’s been chasing for weeks (she won't divulge what) led to the cancellation of our first appointment. Then she had to go and hang out with prostitutes on Baggot St until the early hours, for a piece for tomorrow’s paper.
She’s a busy woman, obviously, but still showed up early and relatively fresh-faced at the hotel. An attractive blonde in black leather trousers, with a very warm and personable manner, it’s easy to see why she gets the showbiz exclusives (much to the chagrin of many of her less pretty male counterparts).
Initially, when asked by Hot Press to do this interview, she expressed surprise that we’d even be interested in her. “But I’m just a reporter,” she protested. “Why would anybody care what I think?”
Of course, she was being coy. As one of the Sunday Independent’s youngest stars, Horan has steadily developed a reputation as a journalist – or ‘journalist’ as online trolls routinely describe her – who often becomes the centre of whatever it is she happens to be writing about.
Which is partly true, but there’s more to her journalistic output than mere personality fluff. She has door-stepped two sitting Taoisigh on their holidays, been threatened with physical violence by a former IRA man, and caused more than a few of her celebrity interviewees to walk out in anger.
Obviously bright, Horan also has guts – and a lot of people seemingly love to hate them. Most recently, a light-hearted piece about women’s rugby outraged feminists and sports fans alike, and sparked a completely disproportionate Twitter storm. It says a lot about her feisty nature that she immediately agreed to pose for Kathrin Baumbach’s camera holding a deflated rugby ball aloft.
She’s cute, she’s punctual, and she can laugh at herself. What’s not to like?

OLAF TYARANSEN: What’s your earliest memory?
NIAMH HORAN: Probably being extremely attached to mother when I was younger. I’m from Newbridge in Kildare, and she’d be involved in helping poor people in our area – meals on wheels, domestic abuse – and I used to go around with her and see a lot of different aspects of life. So just following my mum, like her shadow, would be my earliest memory.
Do you have any siblings?
Two brothers and one sister. They’re all older. Nobody’s in journalism. I think somebody in my family married the former political editor of the Irish Times, but that was about it.
What does your father do?
My dad’s a management consultant, so he’s in business. They didn’t have a clue that I was even interested in journalism until I got into it. I won an award in college. Then they realised, “Oh, she wants to do this.”
Did you have a happy childhood?
My parents were always very good to us. God, my dad would give you the shirt off his back! All his money went into our education. He thought that was the most important thing. They instilled good values in us.
Was it a religious upbringing?
Yeah, definitely. I would think I’m very spiritual. My religion is important to me. If I had to name the top three things, I’d say faith, number one, family and the happiness of the people you love, and your health. Without those three, nothing else matters.
Do you go to mass?
Yes. I used to go every Sunday, but I might have sat there and not listened. Now when I go to church, it actually means something. I go running in the mornings and on the way back I’ll go in to light a candle or say a prayer if there’s something on my mind. Or I might just sit there for a while, or if I catch the end of mass I’ll take communion. I kept my confirmation pledge until I was 18. I’ve made up for it since (laughs).
You recently wrote an article stating that you’re pro-choice on abortion. Does that not jar with Catholic values?
I’m a big believer in the core values of the Catholic Church. I believe in God and Jesus Christ and Our Lady. The main thing is love, as in just to be a good person. I don’t believe in a lot of things that are manmade about the Catholic Church. I’m pro-gay marriage. I agree with abortion – I mightn’t have always, but I do now.
What changed your mind?
There’s a poem I read recently by a woman called Dorothy Parker called ‘The Veteran’. She had witnessed 270-something executions in Texas. It basically says that, when you’re young, everything is black and white, right and wrong. But as you grow older, you realise that’s not the way.
Are you saying you were very judgemental?
I probably used to be very judgemental when I was growing up because you don’t know about life. I mean, last night with the women on the street, God only knows what got them into that position in the first place.
Are you in favour of legalised prostitution?
I’m in favour of decriminalising the women and criminalising the men. That was one of the things I like best about my job. You get to meet people from all walks of life that you’d never meet in any other job. I’ve got to meet the President, I get to interview prostitutes and politicians, and we’ve got to interview teenagers that are growing up and getting into gangs that would bring you into woods and show you where they bury guns for the older gang members. You get access to all of these people and you get to ask them the kind of questions everyone would like to ask.
Were you good in school?
I was a bit of a messer, but I don’t think I caused too much trouble. I was writing poetry and trying to start a little newspaper with my friends. I was very good at the creative side of things and getting on with people, but that was primary school. Secondary school was a different experience.
You didn’t like it?
Hated it, every moment! They tell you school is the best days of your life to keep you there; it’s not! I wanted to leave when I was 16. My parents kept me there.
Were you being bullied?
Yeah, very badly. I remember the day it started. We were in religion class and the teacher said, “Everyone here has problems, everyone here has things going on with their lives that is tough, that they’re facing, whether it’s here or at home.” I remember I didn’t have any problems, which is kind of ironic. And she said, “Is there anyone in the class who can put up their hand and say they’ve no problems?” And I did – and it started after that class (laughs). So it got very bad and it got to the point where I wanted to drop out. I was getting sick in the morning before coming into school.
This was pre-mobile phone days.
Thank God. I can only fucking imagine what it’s like for kids now. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my parents after going through that. I moved school after third year. I didn’t want to be around, let alone going to school.
So you were suicidal?
Absolutely. So I moved school, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me because I will never, ever let that happen to me again. I will never be bullied again.
Did you seek help?
My mother brought me to this woman called Paula Lawlor in Blackrock. I used to see her every month or so. I had very bad acne and I wasn’t able to put my head up at the start when I saw her. She taught me that your actions are completely separate to you as a person. She helped me develop this shield, basically. A confidence that no matter what anybody says, you can’t let them get in here.
Did you have relationships in your teens?
No. I was basically keeping my head down and getting to college. So I came to all of that a lot later, learning the intricacies about relationships and how to handle yourself and that. I lost my virginity when I was 19... (bows head and adopts guilty voice) Sorry, mammy!
That’s quite late.
I would have liked to have left it a little bit later. It wasn’t a one night stand. I saw him for a long time after that. I was in second year of college. See, this is the thing: I make a lot of jokes and sexual references in my copy, but it’s all tongue in cheek.
You did write recently that your pants were quite hard to get into...
I haven’t slept with that many people at all. I don’t sleep around and I don’t do one night stands. I don’t think you’re going to have anybody writing in that will prove me different.
Are you in a relationship at the moment?
No, I’m not.
Any aspirations to be married with kids?
I used to think, when you’re younger, because it’s just the thing to do, but now who knows? I think I put my job first. I devoted my twenties to my job. You know yourself – it’s not a job, it’s a lifestyle. But I do like to go out and socialise as well. I’m not a complete nun.
Have you ever been with a girl?
Sexually? No, sorry to disappoint you, Olaf (laughs). I wouldn’t rule it out, though, put it that way.
Have you had a threesome?
People have tried...
Did you feel any sympathy for that girl who had the threesome with the Irish rugby players and was then outed on social media?
When people have threesomes, fair enough, each to their own. I’m the kind of person who likes to be the star of the show in bed – and it’s all or nothing.
If it was two guys, you’d probably be the star of the show.
Two guys!! No!! (shrieks) That would turn my stomach. No, I’m a one guy girl, definitely. No, definitely not! But did I feel sorry for her? God, of course I did. I don’t know how much drink was involved. I always say there but for the grace of God... it could be anybody.
It was her ‘friend’ who put it on Facebook.
Yeah, you can’t trust anybody. Another thing I’ve learnt from this job is that sometimes it’s those that are closest to you who let you down.
Are you not a trusting type?
It needs to be earned. I think the biggest betrayals in your life don’t come from strangers, they come from people you know. I even see how easily people turn one another over when I go to people for stories. I’m not judging this, but people talk. It’s in our nature. If more than two people know something, it’s not a secret.
What was your first published story?
I did the University Observer when I was in UCD. But I actually got my stories published in the Sunday Independent back in 5th year, when I was 16/17.
You started young...
I spent my summers, when my friends were going off on J1s, working for free for newspapers. I got out loans. I went over to CNBC Europe to work with them for a summer. I did work experience for the Irish Times, the Sunday Independent. I worked for Sky News Ireland. There’s a lot of journalists that come out of school now and they’re just typewriter monkeys. You have to have a passion for it. You can’t be in it strictly for the money. Obviously you have to survive, but there has to be more than that. Like, I was paying to do this long before a job came along. I remember crying the day of my first published story: I was just so happy and overwhelmed. I remember the week I finished my Masters in journalism in DCU, I came out and I met Liam Collins from the Sunday Independent. He asked me to review the book I had in my hand. I did and, of course, it caused ructions the next week. Liam started giving me more stuff and, within a month, I had a full time job there.
So you walked into the job?
Yeah. I’ve been in the Sunday Independent for seven years, since I came out of college. I love it.
What are your thoughts on the fallout from your rugby story?
I was genuinely baffled (laughs). I remember sitting in a pub and seeing all the messages coming through and thinking, “That’s gas!” There was literally hundreds and hundreds. I put it away to just enjoy my night. The next morning the radio stations were ringing. I still don’t get it. Do you get it?
I didn’t find the piece offensive at all, but do I get the Twitter mob thing.
I still don’t know what wound people up. The thing that annoys me is when people go, “Oh, you’re just doing it for click-bait and to get people talking.” If you could bottle that your job would be easy. I didn’t put as much thought into that article as I did other articles I’d written that week. Maybe I spent twenty minutes writing it.
Twenty minutes is pretty quick.
Sometimes I can agonise over something. The piece on abortion I agonised over for four days. It all depends. Interviews, you can agonise over. So the response to the rugby, I took longer. I was more self-aware the second time around, so I put it off. And then someone said to me, “Niamh, just have a couple of vodkas, lash it out and say what you feel.” And I did. Sometimes you do your best writing when you really fucking feel it!
Did that whole episode bring back memories of being bullied at school?
Can I put my hand on my heart (does so) and swear this on my mother’s life? All that animosity genuinely didn’t bother me. I can take 10,000 people online saying whatever they want. A lot of it goes over your head: ‘Your article was shit!’ I don’t listen. Irish people are actually very funny when they get going, especially on Twitter, and I’d be rolling around laughing at the things they’d be saying,
What was your first big Sindo splash?
Maybe going down to Bertie Ahern when he was on holidays. He was on holidays in Kerry. I like Bertie. I take people as I find them and I just think he has charisma. A lot of politicians don’t have that. He has the likeability factor that you need to be a politician.
Not anymore...
You could chat to him about anything and he has a likeability factor. He’ll always have time for you, there’s no airs or graces about him. They’re the kind of people I get on with.
How about Cowen?
He wasn’t too happy. I’m sure if you asked him he might not say the same about me, but I actually do like him. Do you know why? Because he was himself, and he was passionate and he spoke from the heart and because he gave me time that day when he didn’t have to. I know he gave out yards afterwards, but I like him because he’s himself. There’s a lot of politicians who’ll put on a front and they’re just cardboard cut-outs.
You had a more serious run in with [former IRA man turned controversial Priory Hall property developer] Tom McFeely.
Yeah I’ve had a run-in with a good few people along the way. But he was the scariest.
He waved a broken bottle in your face in a Portuguese bar.
More than waved it, he went for me. I was on a completely different job down there. It was my birthday, and I was down looking for someone else. I had dinner, went to a pub for one drink. I was at the bar and looked to my left and went, “I know him from somewhere. Is that Tom McFeely?” and I googled him. And when I googled him I saw ‘developer’ and ‘Priory Hall’. A lot of people that you meet along the way, they say journalists have to know a little about a lot. So I didn’t really know a lot about him beforehand; knew he was a developer and I knew he was responsible for Priory Hall. That was all. Then I saw that there was a warrant out for his arrest and when I saw that, something went off in my head. He saw me looking at him and went to the bathroom, and I asked the guy behind the bar: “Is that Tom McFeely?” And he looked at me and smiled and gave me a little nod. He came back out – I didn’t think twice(mimes taking a picture). Camera. Picture. Then he started walking towards me and I started backing up, walking away backwards.
Who were you with?
On my own. Which wouldn’t have usually been the case – they always make sure I have somebody with me, a photographer, or somebody that will look after me. Or they won’t put me in situations like that. I started backing away and I said, “Do you want to talk about it?” and he said something along the lines of, “Do you want me to smash this glass and stick it down your throat?” You know, when you’re like “Did I hear that properly?” – the next minute, it was like a slow motion thing, an impulse thing. It was like a fight or flight thing, he went for me. Thank God, jeepers, if he got my face or something like that. I ran out of the bar and he chased me out – and it’s the bystander effect – when there’s so many people, everybody’s just looking on thinking somebody else is going to do something. And eventually two guys came and helped me, and he ran off down the street. But I was very, very, very shaken after that.
It was quite a reckless thing to do.
Yeah. I only found out afterwards that he was in Maze prison. I had no idea about any of that! Nobody expects anybody to go for them with a broken glass, especially a woman. What kind of person do you have to be to do that to a woman? As far as I was concerned, I was taking a picture of a developer in a bar. But I would take it again. I have no regrets. I do think I showed him up for what he is and I was glad I confronted him the following week as well in the court; I think that was important to get over my fear. [Sunday Independent editor] Anne Harris was absolutely fantastic. One of the reasons Anne is a brilliant editor is that, day or night, she will go above and beyond. She was on the phone straightaway. I was down at the police station and she was getting people to look after me.
Was there a court case?
I remember sitting on my birthday filing a report. I filed a complaint and I came home and I had two detectives watch my apartment for two weeks – they were very good. I sat down with somebody and I talked about whether I was going to go through with it or not, and I made the decision not to. I think I showed him up for what he was. That’s all I wanted to do.
What’s been your biggest run-in, aside from that?
Do you want to ask me who I haven’t fallen out with? Take your pick! I think too many people get into this job because they want to make friends or they want to meet a husband. I don’t mind falling out with people. I’ve been asked to leave parties, I’ve been asked to leave dinner tables. Journalism, sometimes, can be the social equivalent of leprosy and I've experienced that.
What’s been the worst moment?
The first interview I did with a celebrity was Keith Wood, who was rugby captain at the time. I went down to interview him for the local paper, and of course I was going through questions beforehand and asking people what to ask him and one was, “How does it feel not to be part of the Triple Crown winning team?” — which, of course, was the first question I asked. So we didn’t start off on the right note and I learned the hard way. I wouldn’t be nice to someone if they asked me a question like that straight off.
You pissed Sinead O’Connor off when you rang her husband’s employers and asked how they felt about him being married to a recreational drug user.
Sinead O’Connor would have been one of my biggest fall-outs. Chris De Burgh would be another big fall-out. What else? I’ve had a lot of walk-outs as well. Johnny Logan walked out, Bibi Baskin walked out.
Why did they walk out?
Bibi walked out, I felt, because she felt I was going to ask her questions that I never got to ask and she was saying “Go on, ask me, ask me!” So I just did it. I think we just printed the transcript of the piece, and that spoke for itself.
What about Johnny Logan?
Johnny Logan walked out because I asked him a question he didn’t like that I can’t repeat here. I asked him a question and he said “I’m not doing this” and he got up and left. It doesn’t bother me. I prefer to ask a question rather than be a coward. The worst thing you can do for a reader is to let them feel robbed at the end of the piece. I’ve seen and read interviews where somebody would be in the middle of a scandal and it wouldn’t be addressed. I prefer to ask the question and have somebody walk out than say I was too scared to ask them. Like, do you remember when Ronan Keating went on the Late Late and Ryan Tubridy never asked him the big question?
About his marriage breakdown?
Yeah, and I’m sure Ryan would say that himself afterwards. He didn’t ask the question that everybody was looking for. Can I just say that I’m actually friends with Sinéad O’Connor now – I really like her and get on with her very well now. She wrote me an email after that going, “You’re a bitch, I’m a bitch; I think we can get on.” So we met up and she’s actually great craic and she’s very funny. She’s a good person. I also met Chris de Burgh at a party and he was incredibly nice to me. I respect these people, because they don’t hold grudges. I don’t hold either.
Is there bad blood between you and [Irish Times journalist] Una Mulally over the rugby debacle?
Honestly, I wouldn’t give a hoot if I met her next week in a pub. I’d probably have a drink with her. Life is too short, and you should be able to give as good as you get. I’m not moaning about anything that’s being written about me online. It’s part of the job.
Did you experiment with drugs in your college days?
A bit of hash. I’d never rule anything out. I was talking to somebody the other day and they said, “Would you do heroin when you’re 80, try it once?” If it doesn’t work out, is that not the best way to go? And if it does – it’s a win/win situation? Maybe that!
Have you ever done a line of cocaine?
No, but who knows down the line, what position I’ll be in, or what way I’ll feel at a moment in time?
Are you in favour of the legalisation of drugs?
Yeah. I think it’s funny. Do you know, you asked the coke question and I’m fascinated by the coke question. It’s probably the only question I don’t ask people and the reason is I don’t think you’re going to get an honest answer from 90% of people. Look at what happened to Katie French after she talked about drugs. She was completely shunned and people avoided her – you’re stigmatised because of it. And if you hang around people, they don’t want to hang around you anymore. You just get isolated because of it.
When was the last time you were drunk?
I like to have a good blow-out every so often. Like really, go out every couple of weeks and just let my hair down. Because you have to. But, lately I’m spending a lot more time in and – this sounds really sad – baking and stuff. I love baking! So I wouldn’t go out as much as I used to, but I’m an extremist. So I’ll bake loads of healthy food and then I’ll go out and go to the other extreme.
Do you live alone?
I live with flatmates. I used to drink a lot, and now I like a glass or two with a meal. I wouldn’t go and get legless anymore.
Journalism can be a very unhealthy lifestyle.
Completely, yeah. How do you get your story? You go out and you meet people for drinks. You don’t get a story by going to these little openings of a coke bottle and drinking the free champagne there. You go and you meet people who might be on the periphery, and they’re watching and they’re hearing things. You go and you have a couple of drinks with them. And one of the best things I was ever taught is that nobody trusts you unless you have a drink in your hand. It’s true! You don’t trust the person drinking the water, so it can be a tough lifestyle. It’s definitely more of a life for men than for women.
When was the last time you cried?
Last night at 2am, after meeting one of the girls working on the street. I was talking to her about what got her into what she was doing, and then I had to let her go off with a guy for the night. That upset me. I did a story on A&E last week and it was the same.
What’s the most exclusive contact number in your phone?
I couldn’t tell you! My best contacts, for sure, are the people nobody ever knows I talk to. Anyway, sorry, I lost my phone four weeks ago on holidays on a night out, so I had a lot more numbers before that – I need to back up my iCloud. Not my photos! (laughs)
Did you look at Jennifer Lawrence’s hacked nude selfies?
I looked at the photos. I passed them on. Most people did, am I right? It’s too simplistic to say that it’s a sexual thing or that it’s done by testosterone-fuelled lads who just want a bit of porn. It’s not – it’s curiosity. People by their very nature are curious.
But how would you feel if those nude shots were of you?
I couldn’t agree more. The first thing I did the very next morning was delete a couple of photos from my phone (laughs).
So you had nude selfies on your phone?
I’m not saying that! They might have been, what’s that, implied, or they might have been a bit... y’know! (laughs) But yeah, you have to be careful these days, don’t you? I’m going to go home and upgrade my password!
Would you pose naked?
Would I pose naked? Who knows? I wouldn’t rule anything out. But really whoever you’re sleeping with should be the person that sees you naked.
What really makes your blood boil?
Shit journalism makes my blood boil. I hate when I pick up a newspaper and I read a headline telling you what everybody thinks. Tell me something different. Boring journalism, that’s what makes my blood boil.
Do you have a guiding motto in life?
By fair means if possible, by foul means if necessary.