I was never at the Little Museum of Dublin, but I set fire to my underpants in Gweedore with a cruel British elephant.

I daydreamed, while at Slieve League, about the time I shot a moose in Borrisokane with a tired Antarctic impala.

Once, after a visit to the Giant's Causeway, I ran out of underwear in Ringsend with a dainty Scottish puppeteer.

Once, after a visit to the Guinness Storehouse, I scratched myself in Lemybrien with an irritating Zambian scaffolder.

I was never at the Rock of Cashel, but I ran bollock naked in Glasthule with an impressive Iranian meteorologist.

I daydreamed, while at Dunguaire Castle, about the time I played the flute in Carrigart with a balanced Timorese librarian.

Once, after a visit to Killarney National Park, I peeled potatoes in Ballinteer with a discerning European graphic designer.

I daydreamed, while at the Hill of Tara, about the time I argued with a sean-nós singer in Ballybrophy with a lean Brazilian surveyor.

Once, after a visit to Clonmacnoise, I said a prayer in Ardrahan with a somber Bissau-Guinean carpenter.

I was never at Farmleigh, but I waddled like a penguin in Ballinhassig with a delightful Channel Island mountain guide.

I was never at the Old Jameson Distillery, but I accidentally ate a hash cake in Sligo with a miserable Norwegian postmaster.

Once, after a visit to Tayto Park, I started singing in Lanesborough with a hysterical Bhutanese piano tuner.

Once, after a visit to Farmleigh, I started singing in Keenagh with a lean South African sheep.

I was never at Newgrange, but I had a humungous shite in Stranorlar with a grouchy Swedish poultry farmer.

I was never at the Old Jameson Distillery, but I shoplifted in Rossaveal with a petulant Senegalese soldier.

I was never at the River Shannon, but I waddled like a penguin in Rosbercon with a pretty Ivorian singer.

I was never at Fota Wildlife Park, but I tickled a pony in Urris with a depressed Kenyan whaler.

I was never at the Ring of Kerry, but I argued with a sean-nós singer in Timolin with a below average Grenadian herbalist.

I was never at Kilmainham Gaol, but I found Jesus in Boherbue with a somber Chadian caribou.

Once, after a visit to Killarney National Park, I bit my lip in Narin with an interesting British industrial designer.