Buying the Insignia.


The lad in the recovery truck had a great bedside manner. Shoulda been a doctor. I know this because he said: ‘That car’s fucked.”


“Fucked completely.”

“What’ll we do?”

“Do you know any scrapyards? I can tow you to one.”

“I still need a car.”

“Time for Donedeal I’d say.”

Later on Donedeal, there was Ford Mondeos, Qashqais, Hondas and Toyotas. Some were in Galway, some in Tipperary, more still in Dublin. All no use when you’ve no car to get there. Spotted an Insignia in Monklsand, side of the road, two years NCT, year’s tax, 2010. Looked clean.

Rang it. The man said: “Quick sale, upgrading to a 7 seater myself.”

“Let’s take a look.”

He arrived. Thick glasses, grandfatherly appearance with a hint of Sicilian Mob. Rural Cosa Nostra. Handed me the key, said: “She’s automatic. Is that alright?”

“How’s the transmission?”

“Good as far as I know.”

After, I said: “It’s a bit loud?”

“Probably a bit cold.”

Got out. Took a look around the body. Asked: “Are them back doors a different colour?”

“Hmm….are they? Might be just the way the light is shining on them…”

“And there’s some dinges?”

“Oh yeah, someone in a car park that did that. Are you interested?”

“I’ll let ya know.”

Days later, still had no car. No way to Clonmel, Dublin, Galway or Donegal to bag all the great bargains in the motorised subconscious.

So I rang back Don Vauxhall about the Insignia. Quick chat. Said he’d let it go fairly decent with a bitta luck back.

Did the deal an hour later. Signed the logbook. Handed over the cash and he threw back two fifties for the luck.

Said sound. Bye now. Hit the M6. Great surge but the wheels weren’t balanced. Lotta shakes and vibrations, like a plane in turbulence.

Brought it to the wheel place the next day. Fella said: “Did you pay much for that?”


“There’s a seal in them does go, happens all Insignias nearly.”

“Seems fine, no lights on the dash or anythin…”

“Oh no. You’ll get no warning. The engine will just seize. Full stop.”

“No warning at all?”

“Well you’ll know if it starts gettin loud. It’s not loud is it?”

“Does be a bit cold, maybe.”

“It’s an import too. Better get it checked just in case. There’s Polish lads up the road there.”

Up the road with the Polish lads. First fella said: “There’s a seal that can go in them Insignias….Is it loud?”

“Does be cold.”

“Start it up.”

I did. He said: “Hmm….”


“Hmmm….maybe you might be lucky.”


“Maybe you get a year, maybe engine goes tomorrow. Did you pay much?”

I told him, he said: “The two back doors are different colours.”

“Is it not just the light?”

“More likely a crash. Let me know how it goes.”

Later, rang the insurance, said: “I’ve a new car, want to transfer the policy.”

Ok, she said, what’s the registration?

I gave it to her. She typed it in. There was a distinct pause before she sounded worried and said:

“Hello, Michael?”


“Eh…can you just hold the line there for a second???”

And she was gone.

Phone music. What the fuck now.



Mokusatsu – A Novel by Mick Donnellan.

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.


Novel – El Niño (in Paperback).

El Niño is the exciting debut novel from Mayo man, Mick Donnellan. Slick, stylish and always entertaining, the story is a rollercoaster of drama and tension that hasn’t been seen in Irish fiction for a very long time. Charlie is our protagonist, the pick pocket that steals El Nino’s wallet and then falls in love with her. She’s the wild femme fatale, beautiful; enigmatic and seductive. She rocks Charlie’s world with her smoky wiles and drinking ways and her tough girl ideals. This is Noir at its best. Dark and edgy with crisp fresh dialogue and a plot that engages the reader from the first line and keeps them up all night – right through to it’s powerful finish.



Fisherman’s Blues (Paperback)

Fisherman’s Blues is the hilarious new novel from Mick Donnellan.Dark and audacious, written in a distinct West of Ireland vernacular, it covers a myriad of genres from Crime Noir to comedy and an odd bit of religion. Fresh in its language, vivid in its descriptions, the book sings with the signature style of all Donnellan’s previous work, and a bit more. Delving into the lives of drinkers, lovers, thieves and scam artists, the story weaves a web of intrigue and curiosity that ends with an unforgettable bang. Not without its poignant moments, the plot hinges on the chaotic consequences of three unlikely comrade’s attempts to save their lost relationships, while unintentionally ruining the plans of a rising criminal’s efforts to take over the city. The question is: Can they succeed? And if they don’t, what then? And where have the women really gone?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s