He opens the front door at his home in Dún Laoghaire, older now but still unmistakably Vincent Browne. Are there words to describe him? Too many to mention, but he will grimace at any that resemble a compliment. Two years ago, when he turned 80, he was asked to pick three that captured him then. “Old, cranky, delusional,” he offered. For half a century, he has been one of Ireland’s best-known journalists – many would say one of the best, full stop. He won’t have that. He remembers someone trying to tell him he was the finest Irish journalist of…

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