Publisher's Synopsis
'Hey, Old Guy.' The accent was unmistakably New York; one hundred per cent Bronx with just a spatter of Hell's Kitchen thrown in to give it a touch of class. 'It's me.' A pause.The Old Guy half-shrugged his shoulders. 'Jerry' the visitor added, clearly expecting that this would be sufficient to clear up the Old Guy's confusion.To the casual observer, the Old Guy was keeping a commendable cool, not least because Jerry was a dog and clearly one of mixed heritage although it was clear there was a good deal of spaniel in him, probably of the Springer persuasion given his name.'I'm your son, Old Guy.' There was more than a hint of hurt in his voice at not being recognised immediately.The Old Guy wracked his mind. He had clear and present recollection of three daughters but a son? That didn't ring any bells. And a dog, to boot. That was new to him. He was a man of the world but, surely, he'd have some memory of that. And, as a true born Englishman, to the best of his knowledge, he had never even been to New York.He shook his head sadly...And from there it all goes downhill... an unexpected windfall leads to encounters with a sinister alien, Jerry's old enemy Donald J Trump and his pal Greta Thunberg. Can Jerry save the day and become an action hero, a regular Arnold Sweatzhizknickerz? Irreverent, funny and just a little bit rude, Jerry and the Old Guy is a rip-roaring, roller-coaster ride of a story that will leave you panting for more.What the experts say about O'Connell: 'A modern classic. In O'Connell we have found a worthy successor to the Brothers Grimm' O'Connell's mum, writing on the wall of a public convenience in Killarney with her crayonWhat O'Connell don't say is that this is a true story. But he can't prove nuttin'. I gotta an alibi. I was with the Old Guy all the time. Yeah, that's right. With the Old Guy' Jerry under caution during an interview with the NYP