Ambrose Sheehy-O’Connor experiences some sort of psychological breakdown one night, which he perceives as an otherworldly revelation that convinces him he has received a mission to convert his fellow Irishman to his own unique brand of religion. Speaking and acting in increasingly bizarre ways he roams about preaching his new gospel to anyone who will listen, and strangely enough, rather than rejecting this crazy prophet, many people do in fact listen and find in him someone who merits their devotion. The novel cleverly and often amusingly explores the different reactions to him, and the complex relationship Ireland has to religion in the 21st century. The clergy, the aristocracy, the various social classes, travellers – not to mention his mother – all are used by the author to satirize contemporary Irish society as the old certainties fail and new ones come to take their place. Quite a clever idea, well-executed, with an impressive use of language and some amusing dialogue and comments. But for me it all became a bit tiresome. Ambrose is not a character I could empathise with in any way and his faux medieval speech became increasingly wearisome. The humour, which often verges on the absurd, just isn't my sort of humour and the very idea of a “romp” makes me shudder. Farce is not for me. Nevertheless I can see the book’s merits and can appreciate why many readers would find it amusing, not to mention the many relevant points it has to make about religion, cults and belief. But I can’t say that I enjoyed it.