It is 1968. Patrick Clarke is ten. He loves George Best, Geronimo and the smell of his hot water bottle. He hates zoos, kissing and the boys from the Corporation houses. He can't stand his little brother. He wants to be a missionary like Father Damien. He coerces the McCarthy twins and Willy Hancock into playing lepers. He never picks the scabs off his knees before they're ready.
Kevin is his best friend. Their names are all over Barrytown, written with sticks in wet cement. They play football, knick- knack, jumping to the bottom of the sea. Shoplifting. Robbing Football Monthly means four million years in purgatory. But a good confession before you died and you'd go straight to heaven.
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He wants to know why no one jumped in for him when Charles Leavy had been going to kill him. He wants to stop da arguing with his ma. He's confused: he sees everything but he understands less and less...
Witty and poignant, earthy and exuberant, Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha charts the triumphs, indignities and bewilderment of Patrick Clarke and his world, a place full of warmth, cruelty, love and slaps across the face.