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BUSINESSMAN Denis O’Brien has revealed that he sometimes lies awake at night hugging himself because no one else will.

The multi-billionaire opened up in an exclusive interview with WWN earlier this week as his controversial decision in 2012 to buy optician franchise Siteserv only begins to play out in the media he now controls.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he said while adjusting his doughnut shaped hemorrhoid cushion. “I will tell you what I tell my own newspaper editors: ‘don’t even dare go there pal'”.

Seemingly placid, the 57-year-old began describing his home-life and how things are not always so easy for Ireland’s richest man.

“I struggle with milk cartons,” he said. “I can peel back the flaps, but when I try pinching them to open it I just fail miserably. I’ve never told anyone that before”.

Giving him some time to gather himself, I asked about his wife Catherine and their four kids.

“Because I’m always travelling around the world in my jet, I rarely get to see them at all,” he replied. “We Skype, but you can’t get a hug from an 8k monitor. Nor does Skype support such a format so you could say my family life is quite pixelated”.

“Most of my nights are spent doing jaw yoga, usually ending with me hugging myself on a hotel room floor in some tax-free country,” he added.

“Jaw Yoga?” I queried.

“Yes, I believe to be successful in life, you’ve got to have a good jaw line and a strong chin,” he explained. “G’wan, try hitting me as hard as you can. It won’t hurt”.

With that, I swung for Denis’ face with a right hook, followed by a series of elbow uppercuts and side kicks that I learned in Maui Thai classes in ’89.

Nothing – he didn’t even flinch.

“Impressive,” I said, now trying to hide the pain in my knuckles and left elbow. “It’s like a desperate Dan jaw or something”.

“Yes, I get that quite a lot,” he replied, now taking out a tin of caviar and cutting it into neat lines with a gold credit card on the glass coffee table. “You want to try one?”

Inquisitive, I asked what he was doing.

“Omega three,” he said before snorting the black fish eggs up one nostril and then balancing up with the next. “Great for the old brain”.

“I’ll pass,” I said reluctantly, as the irresistible whiff of trimethylamine filled the €30,000-a-night hotel room. “If you had one bit of business advice to the people of Ireland, what would it be?”

“Buy everything around you of importance, making everyone dependent on you until a time you can actually do and control everything in their miserable worthless lives,” he said.

“Wow, that’s, eh, really sound advice Denis. Thank you for meeting with me”.

“No problem. Can I have a hug?” he asked holding out his arms.

“No”.