When a bitter, abusive and alcoholic man finds himself struck down with terminal cancer, how does he reconcile himself with a family he abandoned? Donnie Gallagher is such a man. He walked out on his family following a horrifying, violent and drunken incident and now his older son and only daughter are forced to confront him and face their demons. Set in a hospice, “Hungry Ghosts” explores relationships and their consequences, with gallows humour and some uncompromising language.

Donnie Gallagher discusses his Funeral arrangements…

Donnie My last Will and Testicle, with all my funeral arrangements appended thereto. Sorry it’s not written in blood.

Sean Oh… Nice of you to lighten the atmosphere.

Donnie I do my best… I wouldn’t like to die intestate, if you’ll pardon the obvious penile pun. And when I shuffle off this mortal cancer, I don’t want any of that shite they played at your mother’s funeral. I knew she was clinically depressed, but “You Are the Wind Beneath My Wings” as the coffin disappeared? Jesus.

Sean That was her favourite piece of music. Her first choice was the Love Theme from “The Titanic”. I said the mourners would be shitting themselves in case the Crematorium crashed into an iceberg.

Donnie Getting back to my funeral arrangements… As the coffin comes in, I want “That’s Life” played…

Sean “That’s Life”? Frank Sinatra? Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate? A little insensitive?

Donnie No way… (Sings a few bars of the song) “That’s life and I can’t deny it…!”

Sean “Many times I thought of cuttin’ out but my heart won’t buy it.

But if there’s nothin’ shakin’ come this July…”

Donnie “I’m gonna roll myself up in a big ball and die… My, my”.

Sean The mourners will be totally pissed off. What do you want played as we leave? Maybe we could have all the mourners belting out “Y.M.C.A.”?

Donnie Better not, son. Your Uncle Brendan’s dyslexic.

Marie I think when I die I’ll have “My Heart Belongs to Daddy”…

Donnie That’s very hurtful, Marie…

Donnie Something else I’d like you to do. Talk to Davie.

Sean He wants nothing to do with me. Says I let him down. Didn’t look after him. Didn’t protect him from you. He hates me seeing you. He’s never forgiven you, Dad. Hates you for everything, you know? Everything… Hates you for Mam’s death.

Marie Can you really blame him?

Donnie I suppose not. If he can’t be arsed, tell the wheelchair-bound wee gobshite it was my dying wish. If that doesn’t prey on his conscience, I don’t know what the fuck will. Listen, son. Your mother’s dead. I’m dying. I’d like my sons to bury their various hatchets and bury their Daddy. Is that too much to ask? (Suddenly taking Sean’s hand) Promise? Do you promise?

Sean Christ, Dad, face it. You’ve been a right prick all your bloody life… Alright. I promise. Happy now?

Donnie I totally agree with you there, son. But I tell you right now, if you and Davie don’t show some form of reconciliation, I’ll bloody well come back and haunt the bastard pair of you. You’ll earn the undying love of an alcoholic, bitter, twisted old bastard.

Donnie I’m getting tired.

Marie Time to go, Daddy.

Sean I think you should.

Marie Anyway, there’s something I have to do…

Donnie At the risk of being sentimental…

Sean (Laughing) God… Anything but that.

Donnie I know I never loved you, but did you ever love me?

Donnie Take your time, why don’t you?

Sean I’ll get back to you on that one, Dad.

Donnie Aye… Fair enough.

Donnie Oh… One final word of advice, Sean…

Sean Dad?

Donnie (Winking) Never eat yellow snow.

Sean (Aside) Donald Gallagher, nearly seventy years of age, born in Dublin, raised in the Liberties. Alcoholic, absent father, struck down in the twilight of his years with terminal cancer. And it terrified the poor old bastard. Do I think he deserved it? It’s not up to me to judge… Is it some kind of divine retribution? I’ll get back to you on that one.