And so, with Christmas effectively upon us, we took ourselves down to Mulligans to re-connect with Sean Óg. A festive pint with our irascible columnist was in order.
Naturally our eyes were drawn to the scene at Apollo House. A small crowd of conscientious citizens were huddled around the bundle of documents pinned to the gate on behalf of our friends at A & L Goodbody.
We will not be reporting Sean Óg's rather sour views on the inspirational Apollo House occupation. Sean Óg would get into serious bother on social media and, by extension, so would we for giving those views a platform.
Suffice to say, he feels sorry for the homeless people having to put up with these impromptu concerts all day. Hell, he feels sorry for himself on that account.
So, we can confirm that his mood hasn't lightened one jot since the beginning of October. His despair during the championship season is matched only by his despair during the off-season.
In the course of our-pre Christmas brainstorm, we hit upon an ingenious idea. We would return to Sean Óg's lair with a view to compiling an end of the season review. Sean Óg's take on the year that was, so to speak. Before we could inform him of our intentions, he was away.
There's absolutely damn all in the papers this weather. I'm telling you now, if I see another dull as dishwater end of the year review, I'll gag. The papers are bloody polluted with them. You can't buy a newspaper but it's coming stuffed with supplements and pullouts with some no-mark whingeing about what happened this year or lamenting how many people died.
I've got news for these people. People die every year! Friends of mine are dying off every year. Friends of mine died in 2015. Friends of mine died in 2016 and you can sure as hell that friends of mine will die in 2017. I may even die meself with any luck.
End of year reviews me backside. Nothing of interest. Is that the extent of the imagination of these guys working in the media these days? They must be poorly off for ideas if that's all they can come up with it.
We gulped and asked him what he expected to see in 2017.
Jaysus, ye're jumping ahead a bit! Let us get to the end of this year first. I do remember the draw for the championship being made - about two hours after the Sam Maguire was lifted - but it's beyond the powers of any man to be saying anything interesting about it at this stage.
Did you see the draw on television? Christ almighty, they dragged the arse out of it. I remember going to the pictures and watching Ben Hur when it first came out. I don't think it was as long as that.
(There followed a lengthy monologue about Charlton Heston which concluded with Sean Óg remembering that he's dead.)
We were panicking now. We feared a wasted trip. It was reminiscent of the time we met Diarmuid O'Connor back at the start of the year. He delivered a stonewalling masterclass on the subject of Pat Holmes and Noel Connelly and then when asked whether he found Stephen Rochford any different, he said he'd been injured for two months and thus couldn't say anything much about him. A less even-tempered journalist would have smashed his dictaphone off the wall.
Ah Mayo!! A subject which Sean Óg could really fasten his teeth into.
Regular readers know that Sean Óg is a firm subscriber to the ancient GAA custom which we will dub 'The Breheny Laws'.
These laws state that one must never revolt against a manager ever.
One of the best articles I've ever read. All these cribbers bleating about how they'll upset the Mayo camp and how they've undermined their chances of winning the All-Ireland next year.
Let me tell you something, I have full confidence in these Mayo lads losing All-Ireland finals regardless of what their ex-managers say. No doubt when they lose by a point next year, the boys will be blamed again, like they were in 2015.
These Mayo players have to decide whether they want to be celebrities or they want to be footballers. And if they want to be both, their manager should tell them just apply for Big Brother - or whatever it's called, is that what its called? - and tell them get of the way. They're no use to Mayo.
Mick O'Connell didn't have many Twitter followers, did he? Or Mikey Sheehy? Or Kevin Heffernan? (we neglected to point out that both Bernard Brogan and Colm Cooper have significantly more Twitter followers than any Mayo player. We felt it might take the wind of Sean Óg's sails. Also, we passed up the opportunity to point out that Jack Dorsey wasn't yet born when Mick O'Connell was in his majestic pomp.)
I couldn't have agreed more with Holmes and Connelly. They hit on the crux of the matter when they used the word 'Ego'. Years ago, a player's ego would have swelled depending on how many All-Ireland medals he had. But it's all different now. These lads can look down at how many Twitter followers they have and feel a warm glow, so they can.
It's about time someone said it about this Mayo crop. If I met those two managers, I'd shake their hands.
Sean Óg's rather pedestrian and cliched sally was interrupted by the din created by a gang of American tourists who'd just invaded the pub. Dressed in Christmas jerseys and Santy hats and gabbing loudly in their sunny Californian accents, this particular 12-pubs party was always going to raise the ire of Sean Óg. He wasn't going to stand for it.
So long has Sean Óg been a loudmouthed barstool at this venerable establishment that he is now empowered to take executive decisions that might more usually be left to the staff.
Here now, get outta here! You're not coming in here. This isn't that type of place. At least, not when I'm here.
"Sorry pal"
There's another pub fifty yards down the road. That's your spot. I don't care who you're eighth cousin is and I'm not going to have to listen to that shite for the next hour. Get out the door...
Before things could get anymore rowdy, we wished our star columnist as happy a Christmas as he can possibly manage and took off into the night.
(Sean Óg was in conversation with Conor Neville)
