I was maybe 12 years old. My parents were watching Channel 4. The English Channel 4, just to be clear.

“Watch this, Fin”, Mam said.

They were watching some comedy with a laugh track. You don’t really see those these days. I was too young to appreciate the jokes. I wasn’t really the demographic.

“Its your man who wrote Father Ted”, Mam said. I never really watched Father Ted. Again, I was too young to appreciate the comedy.

Father Ted was one of those shows that was English masquerading as Irish. No shade. That’s how it was. This show was English though. That I knew for sure. There were English actors saying English things. Then there was that one guy. The man from Ireland. Chris O’Dowd.

At a time when I discovered my calling, to write and be creative, Chris was making his presence known. Not Northern Irish. Not a Dubliner. A man from the back arse of Roscommon on British television doing his thing.

If Chris O’Dowd can make it in the big leagues, then so can I. Hearing a man who sounds like me on television, not RTE. That was a moment I realized the sky is the limit. It still is. I should really get on that.