Tales of Johnny Devitt 

1. The Letter

A long time ago, back when I had hair (a very long time ago), I went to the Cork Jazz Festival with Devo and a few of the yacht club lads. We had no place to stay and no interest in listening to Jazz. 

Like most of the things we did back then, planning was not required, and was usually ignored for fear of ruining our weekend. Things would be grand, that was our attitude. Besides, one of the lads had a contact of a girl living in student res in University College Cork.

The weekend was very eventful. Amongst other activities we learnt how to do the now famous “Smile on Your Face” dance, along with all the really cool actions, or so we though at the time. 

On one particular night after a hard night learning to dance to the “Smile on Your Face” song, I recall Devo had some kind of epiphany. Upon arriving back at our accommodation, he climbed into the back of his car with a notepad and pen. He needed to be alone. 

I found him the next morning having spent the night on the back seat of his car, obviously preferring to rough it out on the small back seat of his car rather than sleep on the cold hard floor of the college dorm. I proceeded to knock on the car window and woke the bleary-eyed mess inside. 

As he unrolled himself, he declared he had written an unbelievable letter to Caroline. He was absolutely chuffed with himself, the letter safely tucked into this coat pocket. Reading the expression on my face, he told me proudly, “Padge, there’s no point reading over it again sober”. He wanted Caroline to read his unedited thoughts. 

I knew not to press him on the content of the letter, it was private. A letter to his future wife and plans he had for your lives together. Or……. Or complete an utter nonsense from a tired and emotional rower not quite able to keep pace with the sailors!

If you got the letter Caroline, you know which scenario is FACT. If you didn’t, well, then we’ll never know. But we do know how he shaped his life with you and how he spoke of you. Like the letter, most things are now are irrelevant as all we have left are fantastic memories. This is one of my fondest memories of Devo, as for me it sums him up, mad, devoted, driven, intelligent, realistic, hilarious.

RIP Devo.

Your friend Padge.

Patrick Stanley

2. Manchester

In 2004, a group of us headed to Manchester to celebrate Jero’s 30th birthday. It was the standard-issue two-night affair with some karting thrown in and a few pub crawls. 

Devo was going through one of his healthy phases and was a bit worried about the effect of too many big nights. He decided he would go out hard and fast on the Friday night, with the idea of going back to the hotel early and catching a flight back Saturday morning. 

We landed in Manchester with a huge thirst on us. As per our excitement, we threw the bags on the beds and it was straight to the bar. After a night on the beers and Aftershock (it was just getting popular), I had lost everyone. I can remember trying to tell the cab driver I was staying in Whitechapel (I was convinced I was in London), and after much arguing and driving around I eventually made it back to the hotel. 

I could see Devo was back before me and fast asleep in his official Devo PJ's (a t-shirt and no underwear). About 20 minutes after falling asleep, the hotel door burst open and two paramedics were stood over us both. Devo proceeded to get out of bed in his special PJ's and freak out at them. It took a while to figure out. 

There was a long red string hanging from the ceiling beside the toilet. Devo had been doing some late night ‘business’ and said he was so curious that he had to pull it. When nothing happened he went back to bed and I arrived back five minutes later. The hotel never told us we were staying in a disabled room. 

Shane Giles

3. The New Phone

I met Devo in town after work one day so he could buy a new phone. In the shop, he was looking at a standard Motorola when I spied the Neo phone from the film The Matrix. Much to the joy of the salesman I put on a hard sell. 

‘Look how cool it is, nobody else will have one (because it’s five times more expensive than the others), you look slick with it etc”. This was soon followed by that giddy glint in his eye, a quick “fuck it you’re right” and the phone was bought. 

A week later he told me I was an asshole because the phone was shit, he couldn’t see who was calling and had to answer every call, which we both laughed about over a pint.

Garrett Creagh

4. The Fart Gun

I remember Devo telling me how for the first time he made Adam really laugh. 

Adam asked his dad if he would buy him a fart gun, to which his Dad replied ‘You don’t need a fart gun’. Adam looked at him about to protest when his Dad added ‘You already have one’. 

‘What? No I don’t!’. 

‘You do. Your bottom is a fart gun’.

Patrick Stanley

5. ‘No beer please. I’m an athlete’

We were all gathered in Belfast for Brero’s stag around 2004. Typical of Brero, we were expected to do some arduous outdoor excursion, before we were allowed to get down to the serious business of drinking. On this occasion a long hike in the Mourne Mountains was planned as the starter course. 

This didn’t sit well with some of us, and instead we departed to a trendy bar in Belfast to get started on the beer. Devo was in his Ironman phase, in peak physical condition and preparing for a big event. As I got the first round in, Devo was adamant he was not drinking a drop this weekend.  ‘Are you sure?’, I asked. ‘Absolutely’, he replied, ‘I’m an athlete’. I ordered Coronas for the rest of the group and a water for Devo. 

Five minutes into the first round, Devo asked what the beer was like. He’d never seen a beer with the lemon in the neck of the bottle. ‘Have a sip’ I said, before Devo tentatively put the bottle to his lips. 

His eyes lit up. ‘There’s no way that’s alcoholic!’ he exclaimed. ‘Get me one’. 

Many more followed, as Devo decided that this would be one tiny exception to his Ironman programme, soon drinking like a man who’d just been found in the Sahara Desert. By the time the others arrived back from their hike, things had escalated. 

My enduring memory from the latter stages of the night is Devo standing on the dancefloor, a picture of happiness, with two bottles of Corona emptied into the back pockets of his jeans. 

Rupert Bedell

6.Free Gaff

One of the summers around the mid-90 when we were still trying to complete the sailing course, Devo announced to us that he had a free gaff for a week. In preparation, Dave McGoldrick and I bought a case of Fosters and threw it in Devo’s garage.

One Saturday (it could have been a Tuesday), Devo was working down in the club but McGoo and I fancied a few cans before we went down. Devo told us to just climb over the flat roof and go in the back door or a window.

Needless to say, the next-door neighbour busted McGoldrick on the roof and we were told the guards were on their way. When we later told Devo, he wet himself laughing. He knew she’d bust us, it was a complete set-up.

Garrett Creagh

7. Glasgow

In 1995, we had our first proper ‘lads’ holiday. Devo, Rup, Evan Dolan and myself headed over to Glasgow for a week of debauchery, staying in Evan’s dad’s apartment.  We had a two-bedroom base in the city centre, and we spent most of our days in amusement arcades and pubs on Sauchiehall St, revelling in our freedom.  We were amazed how cheap the beer was and how mad the locals were. It was like Dublin on steroids.

Devo was particularly impressed with the cheap taxis and insisted on travelling in them whenever possible. I remember walking out of a night club and Devo queuing at a taxi rank shouting at us to join, but we were too busy chatting to locals and messing about.  The taxi pulled up and Devo got in, shouting at us to join him.  He drove 20 yards down the road to where we were, but we refused to get in as our night wasn’t over.  

So Devo says ‘fuck it’, but the taxi man wasn’t happy as he had lost his place in the rank. Devo had to hand over a tenner which was roughly what the entire night on the beer cost back in those days.

Jeremy Law

8. The Kick up the Arse

One of the best parties I can remember was Steve and Deborah Kennedy’s 21st / 18th, at their house, around 1995. The dress code was strictly ‘Black & White’ which called for some creative thinking. Devo was dapper in a tuxedo as James Bond, I donned a dog-collar as a priest (a dirty priest) and Padge had an outfit made entirely of newspaper. This turned out to be a poor choice when he was later set on fire, but we’ll save that story for another day.

The party was a cracker. It started with Devo attempting to cram a dozen sandwiches into his mouth while dancing, and then having to extract them urgently with a fork before he choked.

As the night wore on and the drinks flowed, the girls became magically better looking and the party spilled out to the garden. Devo spent 20 minutes chatting to a particular girl in a black and white dress, before disappearing off, presumably to get more sandwiches to show her his party tricks. As she was hanging about the garden, I spied an opportunity to use some of my priest lines (‘bless you child, have you anything to confess?’) and managed to spirit her away from Devo for the evening.

The next day, I was having a nice cup of tea in my house in Ard-na-mara when the doorbell rang. ‘Devo! How’s the craic?’ I said, before naively turning around to put the kettle on.  

Without saying a word, Devo launched forward to give me the almightiest kick up the arse there has ever been. I literally lifted off the carpet as his foot made contact with the direct centreline of my backside, with a punt Roy Keane would have been proud of.

After a couple of ‘what the fucks?’, I made the connection with the previous night. Devo was apoplectic at having his future wife stolen, but having convinced him that he might have caused me permanent physical damage, we agreed we were all square. 

We had the aforementioned cup of tea, talked about sailing, and remained friends for the next 25 years.  

Rupert Bedell

9. The Beer Window

In the early 2000s, I was working in the IFSC, Garrett Creagh was just across the river at AIB, and Devo was working in the Customs House for a government client when he worked for PwC. We’d often meet for lunch or go for pints after work.

One Friday I had arranged to meet Creaghser for a few pints after work.  As I was strolling past the Customs House, a window on the ground floor slid open and Devo poked his head out.

“Pint?” I asked him, making the international sign of a pint with my hands. He thought for a couple of seconds before nodding, and then moved the flowerpot that was on the window ledge and climbed out the window, laughing. A colleague came up to the window, gave a slight shake of his head, put the flowerpot back in its place and closed the window. 

Andrew Killen

10. The Rub Down

This is from Livigno in 1999, when Devo and Creagh were in snowboard beginner class. Myself, Kev and Devo decided we wanted to go to the sauna and get relaxed. Devo decided to book himself in for a massage.

So we got togged up (not sure why as everyone else was naked), and Devo was all excited about the awesome rub down, which will no doubt be done by a stunning young chalet girl. We’re waiting at the entrance and Devo keeps telling me and Kev that we’ve made the wrong decision to just have saunas.

Then in walks the gayest bloke you have ever seen, calling in a very camp voice: “Johnny, where is Johnny?”

Needless to say, Kev and I are in absolute stitches and can’t breathe we’re laughing so hard. Devo’s shoulders slumped down and he hung his head as he wandered off with Julian Clary for a rub down.

Forty-five minutes later, after myself and Kev have been perving about the sauna, Devo arrives back with the biggest smile on his face. He’s tingling from his head to his toes, claiming to have had the best massage ever. He kept going on about it for the rest of the holiday. 

Gareth Giles

11. The Night the Devil Came to Wolverhampton

During my time in Wolverhampton, Devo came to visit once. We went out on the town that evening with some of my Uni mates. A great night was had by all, except for one lad who got a bit of wee on him and the shopkeeper’s sign, and the town’s street lamps. But that’s a story for another day.

Anyway, Devo was in flying form. It might have been my Irish accent or Devo’s antics but the next morning everybody was calling him Devil. From then on whenever, somebody was about to recall a memory from one of our more memorable nights out, it would start with: ‘Remember Padge when your mate Devil came over’.

Patrick Stanley 

12.Sailingshoes.com

Johnny was way ahead of his time when it came to the internet, and realising its potential.  

At the height of the dot.com boom in the year 2000, Johnny and I embarked on a business venture. I bought the domain sailingshoes.com, and Johnny bought the book 'Internet Marketing for Dummies'. 

We met regularly for 'business lunches', which sometimes involved pints.  This was when he was jumping out the window of the Custom House. It was the most practical exit, apparently.  

Like most wildly successful digital enterprises, we certainly didn't rush into monetising the site. However, I believe it definitely was the start of his online marketing adventures which were to come later.

Six months after ‘launching’ we did receive a four figure offer for the domain site. We laughed it off at the time, agreeing the offer was 'Rubbish!' 

We didn't renew the domain the following year, after trying to offload the site to Dubarry.

Fact.

Tim Concannon

10. Henley Regatta

In 2006, Devo asked me to be his official coach for Henley Royal Regatta. This was a subterfuge, allowing us access to the stewards’ enclosure so we could drink champagne together surrounded by other similarly sophisticated individuals, smartly dressed in suits and blazers. Devo was rowing in the Queen Mother Final on Sunday so there was plenty of time for him to have a few glasses on the Friday without any lasting effects.

Rup, Jero and I drove up from London to join the (premature) celebrations. It was a beautiful summer day, and all of Henley was turned out in its finery.  We quickly got into the spirit of things, taking our place in the enclosure and ordering a bucket of champagne.  We even managed to watch some racing from a lovely slipper (non-sailing boat), whilst drinking more champagne.

In predictable fashion, ‘Frank the Tank’ (aka Devo’s alter ego) made an appearance as the evening wore on, and a switch to burgers and beer followed. Devo’s crew seemed unimpressed, but he calmly assured them there wouldn’t be any issue with his performance on Sunday.

At about 8pm, in an attempt to make up for his drinking, Devo decided that he and I should do a quick course recce by swimming out to the river booms. An impressive swimming spectacle unfolded, which was only interrupted when we were pulled from the water by the Henley police. Devo’s explanation that he was a serious competitor and that this was simply part of his training regime didn’t wash.

Saturday was a repeat performance, albeit slightly more disheveled. On the morning of the big race on Sunday, Rup and I rented a punt to get a ringside view of Devo’s big moment. We cheered loudly as Devo’s foursome came speeding past with Devo puffing hard, at least 40 metres behind the French boat. I may have imagined it, but I could swear Frank the Tank managed a smirk as he passed us.

David Killen 

11. The Jazz Festival

I remember a group of us went to Cork for a long weekend for the Jazz Festival. We’d absolutely no interest in the jazz, it was just another excuse for a weekend away. 

We wanted to watch a rugby international as it was during the rugby World Cup, so we went into Jury’s to see the game. A jazz band were setting up, and someone said “are you not showing the rugby?” A band member said “F*ck the rugby! This is the jazz festival!”. 

To which Devo replied “F*ck the jazz!”

Andrew Killen 

12. The Tent

Johnny was always a man for taking things to extremes, and if there was a performance edge to be gained, he was all over it.

I remember calling into the apartment with him and Caroline just to get the low down on the altitude tents he was experimenting with. He explained to me the level of research he had done before purchasing the tent. He was so confident in the performance gains he would make, he had even written to the Irish coaches to explain in advance why his performance numbers were going to sky rocket.

I guess it would not have not been that long after the Michelle Smith drugs saga, so he wanted to be sure people knew how he was achieving the improvements. I was impressed and was wondering was it something we could use with the sailors.

Johnny was enthusiastically going on about the numbers as he walked towards the bedroom to show me the set-up. With a double bed housed within the altitude tent, there was barely enough space left in the room to swing a cat. The following conversation ensued:

Me: What does Caroline think of this?

Johnny: Yea, she’s totally cool with it.

Me: And does Caroline sleep in the bed as well?

Johnny: Yeah, of course.

Me: Right…is Caroline training for anything?

Johnny: No, but she’s really fit and he winked at me.

We both creased ourselves laughing. That sums up Johnny for me, a very serious determined guy with a super sense of humour and clearly an amazing relationship with Caroline.

James O’Callaghan 

13. Frank the Tank

Dungarvan was a popular spot for many of our weekend road trips. A charming town with lively nightlife, and the added advantage of being able to crash at Toby’s, it proved to be the perfect spot for our gatherings outside Dublin. We came to know the bars and nightclubs pretty well, as well as the inside of the local police station. 

On one such trip in 2007, a large group of us went down for a housewarming party at Toby’s new house. We’d been watching the film ‘Old School’ a few week’s previously, where the lead character Frank (Will Ferrell), plays a downtrodden husband who goes bananas after drinking beer, unleashing a beer-fuelled maniac prone to streaking.

As those who know him would testify, Devo was a man who tended to operate at extremes. He had several modes: Extremely Fit; Extremely Determined; Extremely Drunk. No middle ground, ever.

On this occasion, he opted for Extremely Drunk.

After the customary ‘road-trip beers’, we arrived at the party which was already in full swing with Kerrie’s mates. Although he didn’t know any of them, Devo decided the best course of action would be to perform some of his ‘party tricks’, which was a combination of break-dancing, self-harm, and flashing his privates to strangers. 

The climax of the evening came when we boarded a rented bus to head to the nightclub, when Devo performed a wedgie on himself with such powerful force, it ripped his underpants clean apart. He then stuffed his ripped pants into his mouth and tried to eat them.

I say with some confidence that no-one had ever seen anything like this. After a few moments of stunned silence, someone chanted ‘Frank the Tank’, and a chorus grew until we were all yelling it. Devo grinned menacingly, clearly revelling in his new found notoriety.

The night went from bad to worse (or better, depending on your perspective), until Devo was inevitably ejected from the nightclub, but with clear hero status.

Thus, ‘Frank the Tank’ was born.

Rupert Bedell 

14. The Racing Incident

The Summer racing series in Malahide Yacht Club was a serious affair.  Every Tuesday and Thursday night, the full rainbow of Stanley Laser colours was on display alongside the pristine white new purchases of the Irish Sailing Development Team. 

Hardened from a winter of tough racing at the Howth frostbites, the conditions on the Broadmeadows required a more subtle approach as opposed to the brute force of a windy February.  More often than not, on a pleasant August evening, the Estuary would be as still as glass. Every movement on the boat would be deliberated on for minutes, before a finely balanced manoeuvre would be executed.  Every ripple slowed the eager competitors, each hoping for that fleeting movement of the still air that would give them the advantage.  Competition was fierce; the dream of the accolades of the club and the chance to win one of the precious club engraved trophies at the end of the season weighed heavily. 

One such season in the early 90’s, the competition was very tight.  At the top of the leaderboard were two young sailors – Johnny Devitt (‘Devo’) and John Brereton (‘Brero’) – both of whom were more suited to the winter gales then than the summer stillness.  It was approaching the end of the season and, typically, another drifter beckoned. 

The first leg down to Wells saw them ahead of the rest of the fleet, muscles taught and mind focused they each executed perfect light air gybes around the mark.  Metre by metre, they progressed past the arches, each of them hunched forward over their daggerboard, focusing intensely on the Donabate mark. 

As they approached, Brero had a critical half boat-length lead over Devo, denying him an overlap, although how the boats were even moving was a mystery such was the stillness of the air. A momentary puff or air accelerated Devo, but Brero was on it.  ‘No water’. Brero spoke softly; there was less than a metre between the boats and he was confident of his position. 

He could not believe his eyes when a hand emerged from under the sail beside him and grabbed his boat, pushing him backwards. In that instance, all of the stress and anxiety of the weeks of competition let loose and Brero stood up in his cockpit.

“Devo! What the fuck are you doing?!!’  His voice boomed out over the stillness.

Devo was committed. Without responding, his hands worked rapidly to pull his boat forward past Brero’s boat and towards the mark.  Incredulous and raging, Brero snapped. The demand for justice was overpowering – no protest flag or penalty would suffice.  Retribution was the only outcome, and physical violence the only means. In two steps he was past the mast and onto the foredeck, as Devo’s transom passed his bow.

Puce faced, he took one more step and launched himself into the air, his fury pushing his own board backwards as much as his own body forwards. As Devo glanced back, survival instinct took hold and he pulled in his trailing mainsheet as Brero’s fingertips brushed his transom before he plummeted into the drink. 

As Brero was left screaming and thrashing in the still evening, Devo rounded the mark with extra gusto at his cunning, and went on to win.  Brero’s humiliation was not compete; a capsize and a broken tiller left him the last out of the water. By the time he got ashore, Devo was sensibly long gone.

John Brereton

15. Sutton Regatta

I remember Devo as a youngster wanted to go to Sutton to their regatta, but his parents were away so he had no transport to get there.

Determined not to miss out he got up really early (probably after one of those messy parties in the gaff), and walked his Laser from the Broadmeadows to the outer estuary down the main road on its launching trolley!

He launched there and sailed around Howth Head to Sutton creek. It was seriously windy that day and the forecast was not great. He told me after that he was actually scared around the back of Howth head as the waves were so big and it was so windy - conditions he had never seen before.

When he got to Sutton the event had been called off as there was basically a full gale blowing. When the beach master saw him on the slipway he went mad at him for launching and kept shouting at him to get his trolley and come ashore. He was asking Devo where his trolley was, and couldn’t understand that Devo was saying ‘Malahide’!

Eventually they got him ashore and insisted someone drive him and his boat home. I think that was the early days of the legend status we all came to know whereby Devo let nothing stop him, and he achieved the almost impossible.

Niall Peelo 

16. ‘Turn the Car Around Kipper’

After two days of festivities at the Cork Jazz Festival, I woke up feeling pretty worse for wear and decided to pull the pin and go home, leaving the other lads to continue on with one more night of madness. Devo was in much the same boat so decided to come with me.

We drove for about an hour or so before stopping at McDonalds, somewhere between Cork and Dublin, during which time we both drank a lot of Coke and then felt a lot better. We got back in the car and Devo started making phone calls and relaying what the lads were doing in Cork, what the plans for the evening were, and generally getting excited. It wasn’t long before the enthusiasm became too much to bear. 

‘Turn the car around Kipper. It’s time to go back to Cork’. Which we promptly did.

Andrew Killen

17. Powerade

Devo and I want on our first ever snowboarding holiday to Livigno in 1999 with a group of the lads. Lessons began every morning at 9am, while ‘Sessions’ continued every night until 5am. I wouldn’t have made it to a single lesson if Johnny didn’t drag me out of bed every morning. We never missed a minute.

We would both arrive each morning, armed with large bottles of Blue Powerade. We were getting a few looks as we guzzled away, and always offered some to our group mates but there were never any takers.

Finally, on the last day a German girl said to us ‘I don’t know how you do it’.  ‘Do what?’ we enquired. ‘Drink vodka every morning, I can smell the alcohol’. The whole group assumed we were drinking a vodka Powerade mix for the week because of the fumes from the previous evening coming out our pores.

Were we shocked or ashamed? Not at all. We were delighted. Another great story for the lads.

Garrett Creagh

18. The Compliment

I think it was his first time meeting my (now) wife Michelle. We were in a bar on Dame Street for someone's birthday. After a few beers and heading onto another bar, I thought I’d just finish a bit of break-dancing.

Devo turns to Michelle. “What's the attraction?”, with absolute disbelief why she would be with me.

Kevin Stanley

19. ‘The Line Johnny, the Line!’

Johnny’s Stag Do in Galway was a big one. Anticipating a heavy night that could go wrong, his brother Jerome has been clearly given the task of keeping Johnny in check, and unbeknown to the rest of us had agreed a codeword when Johnny went too far. The fact that they were both more worried about what Johnny would do to himself than anyone in the party says something about the man. The plan was he would remind Johnny of the line that should not be crossed, by saying ‘The Line’.

 After a day’s heavy drinking at the Galway Races (where the mystical Green Jacket was born), and an evening in various restaurants and bars, we were back at our hostel accommodation but still in party-mode.

Someone discovered that there was a party of student nurses happening next door, and being extremely drunk, we decided that they would love a visit from us. We duly gate-crashed, led by our commander-in-chief Devo, in full Frank-The-Tank mode.

My abiding memory from the evening is circa 2am, Johnny addressing the occupants of the flat in their kitchen, hands on hips, absolutely starkers apart from the Green Jacket, while Jerome is screaming in the background “the line Johnny, the line!”

Jeremy Law 

20. The Wall

On one of the many trips down to visit Toby in Dungarvan, the gang is there having a BBQ in the garden one evening, having consumed a level of alcohol to make Withnail and I proud. When the craic had subsided, it was deemed a great idea to head to what sounded like another party in the neighborhood and some female company!

Although the intended destination was only a few feet around the corner, it was agreed that jumping over the back wall was the most efficient way to the party. The back wall was brick and over six feet high, so we all gathered to assess the run up and jump to mount it.

Devo said ‘fuck this’, and backed up to the patio and started the run up.

About a foot away from the wall, at full sprint, he realized he was too close to get the large jump required to actually get a hold on top of the wall. He took a mini-skip and ploughed full tilt into the wall, raising his arms at the last moment in vain, thus taking the full force of the wall to his face.

I think that was the end of his night.

David McGoldrick

21. Tumbleweed

The night before his wedding in 2004, Devo was in high spirits. A group of us meet down the Yacht Club, and Devo confidently confided in me that he had an exceptional speech prepared that would ‘bring the house down’. The highlight required some prop work, and would go like this:

Devo: “If Caroline and I were characters from the show Friends, she would be Monica because she’s so tidy. And I would be Chandler, because I’m so funny”.

At this point, no-one would laugh, but a tumbleweed would magically blow across the floor, to the sound of an empty desert breeze. And then everyone would inevitably collapse in laughter. And he wanted me to be ‘tumbleweed man’.

Although I saw several flaws in the plan, such was his enthusiasm for the gag, I thought it better to agree in the hope he’d probably forget about it the following day and I’d be off the hook.

On the day of the wedding, after much messing about on the river, we were racing south through Dublin in his car, already running late and with Johnny soaking wet from his jump in the river. As we drove past a verge with long grass, Devo shouts “stop the car”, and jumped out to pull handfuls of grass for the tumbleweed gag. 

Fast forward to speech time, Johnny is in his element. It’s hard to know whether it’s scripted or not, but it’s all coming from the heart, and everyone is loving it. I can see the pile of dirty grass sitting behind the door, and Devo is giving me the eye saying 'get ready for this!’

He delivers the line, and there’s a polite applause. As the laughter dies, I proceed to walk through the tables with a big bunch of dirty grass held over my head dropping everywhere, while Devo blows furiously into his microphone trying to make a wind noise.

The silence is broken only by Marna Law loudly crying ‘What are you doing Rupo?!’.

The guests are confused. I am humiliated. But Devo is laughing his ass off.

Rupert Bedell