Uncle Colm: There was a knock at the door, this must have been, ach, we're talking eight, half eight, for I was halfway through me dinner. And up I got to open it, and there they both were, large as life. And the taller fella, though, to be fair, there was no more than an inch in it --

Mary Quinn: Jesus wept.

Uncle Colm: -- the slightly taller fella, he says to me, says he, "Do you know who we are?"

Granda Joe: How is a body supposed to enjoy his dinner?

Uncle Colm: And I says to him, says I, "Well, I can't be sure now. But maybe if you took off the balaclavas?" And then he says to me, the slightly taller fella does, he says, "Step aside, we are armed." And that is when the smaller fella, although, as I say, we are talking an inch --

Erin: Mammy, make it stop.

Uncle Colm: -- an inch and a half at most.

Gerry Quinn: I need a drink.

Uncle Colm: He has the bright idea of tying me to the radiator, you see. And I remember saying to myself, says I, "Colm, it's a good job you have the economy seven on the timer, or you'd be roasted here."

Aunt Sarah: Did you go for the economy seven in the end, Colm? I thought you said the hot water settings were a minefield?

Gerry Quinn: For the love of God, Sarah, no diversions.

Mary Quinn: Aye, come on, let's pick it up. They tied you to the heater.

Uncle Colm: They did indeed. And there I am, shackled to the thermostatic valve with me new shoelaces, when one of them, the smaller fella, or, hang on, maybe it was the --

Gerry Quinn: It doesn't matter, Colm.

Uncle Colm: Well, it was one of the two. He is looking for the keys to the van. All ranting and raving and getting himself all worked up, threatening to set fire to my good chaise lounge and all sorts. By Jesus, they were absolutely desperate to borrow the van.

Mary Quinn: Colm, they didn't borrow your van. They stole your van, used it to move arms across the border, and then they blew it up.

Uncle Colm: Aye. Nightmare altogether.