When the news hit my ears that singing sensation Sophie Ellis-Bextor had fallen in love with an Irish donkey, I immediately went to the phone to see if the donkey was one of my friends.
Only later did I realise that the donkey was in fact a real one, and not a man that I might know or share the occasional pint with.
I felt foolish, of course, but not for the first time.
The story of Sophie and the Irish donkey goes back to the filming of a music video in Kerry last September, when the delectable Miss Bextor fell for the charms of two local donkeys.
So much so, that they even featured in her video. And in many ways, they were the highlight of the whole thing.
Anyhow, the lovable rogues, with their hairy backs and twinkly eyes, won the heart of the stunning popstar princess, and from that moment on, she wanted little more than to take them back home to England.
T’was like a story straight out of Shrek, only with a pop giant instead of an ogre.
Alas, it was a fairytale without a happy ending, for there came the realisation that you can’t keep a donkey in London, where she lives.
London you see, is a city that is not remotely like Kilmichael or Gneevagullia, which are places where a donkey or twenty could be kept with little fuss or bother.
And while in normal circumstances this should be the end of the story, I don’t believe it should be the end of anything!
I don’t believe that a woman like Ms Ellis-Bextor should be denied the opportunity to keep a donkey, if she wants a donkey.
And the fact that she lives in London should have no bearing on it.
In fact, when you really think about it, London is the perfect place to keep a donkey.
I have been to London a few times over the years, the first was way back in the eighties, when, with great determination and armed with little more than a wheelbarrow and a bag of cement, I transformed the city into the metropolis it is today.
And later on, I returned, when weddings and so on required the likes of me to attend.
And in all my times in the city, the one thing that has always struck me is the amount of open green space that is available to the public.
Huge public parks and general green areas, that must run into hundreds, if not thousands, of acres.
Areas that have to be constantly cultivated to prevent them from going wild.
Back in the 1920s and 1930s, sheep, I believe, were routinely used in London parks to keep the grass down.
Shepherds used to compete for the privilege of having a few sheep in Hyde Park and other fancy spots around the city.
It was a great idea, and the right way to go.
But then, of course, the world got too fancy for sheep and the practice was stopped.
Nowadays, more mowers, flails and strimmers than Macroom, Dunmanway and Skibbereen Tool Hire could supply are used to combat the growing grass.
All buzzing away, in an effort to keep the city from going under a sea of green.
And then we have poor Sophie Ellis-Bextor, a girl who wants little more than to have two donkeys by her side, her friends from Ireland. And incredibly, in her home city, this is too much to wish for!
A city that produces hundreds of tonnes of pointless grass every year, and not a blade of it is available for the two lovable old Irish donkeys.
Have you ever heard of anything more ridiculous?
Miss Bextor could have 200 Irish donkeys and 200 Friesian bullocks grazing happily in Hyde Park, and nobody would notice the difference.
Indeed, such a herd would be extremely beneficial in saving the city a fortune in gardening costs and also supplying its inhabitants with a bit of tasty beef on the side.
In a world that happily embraces , keeping a few donkeys in London should be a walk in the park.
