The truth is, images of the young Margaret Thatcher stirs something in his boxers.
” We must join NATO immediately!” He declares, normally at a Fine Gael meeting, although its not his first political venue of choice. He had joined the PDs, and been aghast to discover that it was not, as he had expected, been the Donnybrook branch of the Tory party. Curiously, despite his odd accent, he’s no British ties at all, but instead fomed his opinions in school as a result of severe beatings from the local GAA heads who turned his head against all things deemed culturally Irish.
He reads British newspapers, and is far more interested in British politics than parochial Irish nonsense, and would be quite happy if we were to rejoin the UK, our “Natural home”. Somehow, he’s managed to get himself onto various British cultural mailing lists, to the extent that he gets invited to dos at the British Embassy, after which the ambassador, having spent twenty minutes listening to his gushing views on Britain, asks the resident MI5 spook to start running psychological profiles on all future guests, as he’s fed up talking to “mentalists”.
He’s no time for the EU, which upsets his tidy little plan, and spends a lot of time on British political websites ranting against the evils of Brussels and the Euro. He tends to be lauded on such sites, as proof that “Even the Irish can see what’s going on here!”
Then his mum makes him come down, have his tea, and finish his homework.