What a week to be Irish in London. By the time the smoke cleared on Saturday evening at Twickenham, Ireland had put 42 points past a bewildered England side and the Irish rugger bugger contingent in SW London, I’m told, could be seen hanging out of an overturned chariot toasting the revival of Irish rugby. ‘We never lost faith in you Andy’ was the message, and all the sins of the previous weeks had been forgiven.

I’m always impressed by Farrell and his players and the level-headed way they deal with an increasingly expectant, needy and sometimes hysterically defeatist Irish public. I include myself in this. And what a weekend for Jack Crowley, who has nailed down that number ten jersey for the foreseeable. Good man, Jack. It’ll save me and Fachtna a lot of time having to repeatedly ping-pong WhatsApp messages about the anti-Munster conspiracy at the heart of Irish rugby. Although, for the record, Gibson Park is a considerably better name for a stadium than the Aviva. Something to keep in mind, IRFU.

Actions and intentions

And speaking of good days for the Irish in London, the day after the Twickenham demolition Jessie Buckley was at the BAFTAs, winning Best Leading Actress for her role in Hamnet and looking very much like the woman who’ll walk out of the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles on March 15th with Ireland’s first ever Best Actress Oscar. Brenda Fricker did the country proud back in 1990 with the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress of course, so now Jessie, the pressure is on.

The BAFTAs themselves, however, will be remembered for something rather more complicated than Buckley’s famous win. John Davidson, a Scottish Tourette’s syndrome campaigner who inspired the BAFTA-winning film I Swear, was in the audience when his condition caused him to shout a profoundly offensive racial slur, audible as Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo took to the stage.

The film, which won Robert Aramayo the Best Actor gong ahead of Leonardo DiCaprio, Timothée Chalamet and Michael B. Jordan himself, is literally about the involuntary nature of Tourette’s tics.

The audience had been warned in advance. Host Alan Cumming handled it with grace but it was a very tricky evening for the organisers. Davidson left early and has since said he is ‘deeply mortified.’ None of what happened was within his control, which the medical literature is quite clear about.

The internet, however, was considerably less clear, with Jamie Foxx among those who apparently felt qualified to diagnose intent from a distance. The whole episode lands differently when you know what the film is actually about. Discourse and understanding rather than finger-pointing seem like the order of the day, even if the clickbait websites haven’t got that memo.

The files keep coming

Not to be trolling our lovely neighbours, but it’s hard not to see the current crisis in the British royal family as death by a thousand cuts. The Epstein file tends to arrive like a boomerang, and this week it came around again with considerable force.

On Thursday, Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, whom we used to know as Prince Andrew, was arrested on suspicion of misconduct in public office, relating to allegedly sharing confidential government information with Epstein.

Then Peter Mandelson, former Labour grandee and until last September the UK Ambassador to the United States, was arrested on the same suspicion.

Mandelson, who had already been sacked by Keir Starmer following an earlier batch of Epstein emails showing him calling the convicted sex trafficker his ‘best pal,’ is now accused of having forwarded sensitive government information to Epstein during the 2008 financial crisis. Starmer himself is having a week that you would not wish on a sworn enemy, although it does prompt the observation that the phrase ‘I didn’t know’ is doing an awful lot of heavy lifting in British politics right now.

Epstein was an awful human being who ruined the lives of countless young women and seemed to have a magical ability to pervade every echelon of influential society. What’s even more unsettling is his ability to continue this noxious influence, seemingly from beyond the grave.

Watertight

A small but cheering note to finish on. Ireland’s new National Maritime Security Strategy, to be unveiled by Minister for Defence Helen McEntee, will see the country deepening its partnerships with the UK and France to protect our seas and the critical subsea infrastructure running along the Atlantic seabed beneath us.

The Naval Service, with its four regularly deployed vessels and 807 personnel, has been punching below our weight for a long time. We can’t rely on the fishermen of Beara to protect our sovereignty forever, and the idea of having a formal framework for cooperation rather than just hoping for the best is genuinely welcome.

And if you’re reading this, Mr. Putin, yes, The Southern Star is keeping an extremely close eye on you.