Dear Diary: Bejabers and begorrah, I'm off to Capital Hill for a St Patrick's Day lunch with me old pal, Taoiseach Kenny of Ireland. "Top of the mornin' to ya, Edna" I said. A State Department aide tried to whisper something in my ear. I waved the underling away: "Don't interrupt," I admonished him. "Can't you see I'm talking to Edna?" That's just it sir," he hissed. "It's Enda not Edna" Awkwaard... I immediately burst into song to distract Edna Enda. "With a shillelagh under me arm and a twinkle in me eye, I'll be off to Tipperary in the morning." Enda was impressed.
I'm flying to Tel Aviv tonight and I expect Bibi to be similarly impressed with my rendition of "Hava nagila." But enough about me.
I'm flying to Tel Aviv tonight and I expect Bibi to be similarly impressed with my rendition of "Hava nagila." But enough about me.
