prefer a banana sunday myself or is that sorbet NO, NO it’s souffle er wait a minute ‘surprise’ oh feck it I’ll just have a banana on ice - mind you one on the barbie is good too [no not barbie doll spittie]
Well, its funny you should mention the misuse of GUINNESS , chaps for I have a short tale of my own concerning, a blockage, a doctor and an endoscopy. Not forgetting the creation of our Arthur G.
About 10 or 15 years ago I had an excruciating pain in my right side which approximated to the first major bend in my large intestine.
I won’t bore with too much detail, suffice to say I was hung naked upside down whilst the unfortunate staff inserted a large quantity of air and liquid into my poor rear. Enough said.
I was later summoned to my GP for the result & he idly enquired .
“Could you just quickly remind me of the procedure you had”
“A Guinness enema”, I cheerfully chirped back at him. Of course it wasn’t the precious liquid that they used. I had experienced a an unfortunate momentary Freudian Slip, bought on no doubt by his strong Irish lilt.
“ Oh my goodness “he came back with…
“Sure what a terrible waste of Guinness” … then hooted with laughter. There was one to be included in his memoirs.
I agree with him RJ, wasting good Guinness is a mortal sin, well that’s what the good Father Jack (Flash) Kavanagh told me, he was the fastest mass celebrator in the West, Dublin West that is, 7 minutes flat, all the tipplers loved his mass on a Sunday morning, gave them more time in the pub later. He hated doing the confessions on Saturday afternoon, kept him away from the bookie’s and his beloved horse racing. My Dad was strict on religion and the brother and me had to get confession every week although we had nothing to tell, sometimes the pair of us would start swearing at each other on the way to the church, just to provide a few sins for the occasion, can you imagine two respectable looking altar boys effing and blinding each other walking along the street. Kavanagh knew us well and one Saturday, bored and hoarse from cursing I enter the dreaded box and he slid back the hatch “Bless me Father for I have sinned” “Get out Jimmy and don’t be wasting me time” I kid you not. He was a good man rest his soul.
tales from the ozzie bush
I was sitting out on the patio at 7pm pitch black by then and no streets lights down our way we are literally in a small forest.
sitting quietly with the step son having a beer and yarn as you do when out of the mirky blackness walks an apparition a young lady in short denim shorts and a black top [not a good color for the dark!]
she introduced herself in a panicky way saying she had lost her way although living here for 15 yrs; lost her car and had left her 4 kids at home alone! - you can imagine our surprise and puzzlement?
she was I believe now in a panic state having walked along a sandy cutting across two roads and onto our property.
to cut a long story short she had driven to the property in dusk - not a good idea and purchased a horse for her kids and a surprise for her hubbie who was working away!
she says she rode the hose back bareback to her abode leaving the horse with the kids and walked back in the gathering dusk to get her car - this is when she became disorientated and lost and finished up with us!
I calmed her down and explained that as we had both been drinking alcohol we were unable to give her a lift - at which she panicked again and said I must go and find my car my kids are all alone.
the good samaritan kicked in with me and I said I can drive you to the end of our road but no further. we took off and she recognized dirt tracks she had traversed and we finally found her car.
she was eternally grateful and asked me to call around this week for a cup of tea ?? - she I risk it???
Ah I’m proud of you me lad, well done. the poor Woman must have been up the wall worrying about her kids at home, as they say Gumbud, if you are not rewarded in this life you’ll surely be in the next. Go and have that cup of tea you deserve it.
It’s not for me the Australian bush, I’d miss the songs of the lark and the thrush
And the sweeping green fields where the cows do graze
Sparkling fresh rivers and the light morning haze
My little white cottage with the thatch on the roof
My black horse Tim who’s swift on the hoof
The rain in Winter as it hits the window glass
Although Christmas can sometimes be a pain in the ass
Spring in the meadow is a beautiful sight
Must go now, I’ve said said enough shite.
Joanna is a real old trouper I love her pleasant manner. The wife doesn’t like her though, she calls her Joanna Lumpy, just jealous i think.
Phyllis was a great fan of Elvis, she used to have a full sized poster of him in her bedroom when she was a teenager, I could never take to the mans singing, I was one of the few youngsters who just didn’t like him, as for his “acting” we’ll say no more about that. Pricilla Presley is starting to fall apart, all that plastic surgery on her head is cracking and coming apart, she’s definitely in need of repointing.
Speaking of building work, there were two old geezers having a friendly barney up in the local yesterday, they were slagging each others abilities to get around, the younger of the two who must have been 85 if he was a day, had one of those Zimmer frames and he told the older chap that he ought to get a stick to balance his limp with his gammy left foot, the older fella just laughs and says back to him “I manage alright, at least I don’t need scaffolding to stay upright” I thought it was hilarious.
my wife advised against it??
When I was but a callow yoof
I used to like Mann’s Brown
A bottled brown,to tell the troof
I was happy to swig it down.
My mates would whoop and laugh at me
As they had ale ‘from the tap’
But,I dunno,that stuff was piss,
Just mass-produced tree sap.
Then,on coming home one day
[I’d joined the Merchant Navy,y’see]
I went to our pub and to Percy did say
“A pint of Mann’s,for me”
But Percy said “I’m sorry,Pug,
the Mann’s Brown is all gone”.
So I looked around,chose the darkest wood
and said “I’ll have that one”.
For Percy’s pub had wooden taps,
no modern ceramics for he;
so I chose the darkest brown I could,
…which is how I met Guinness,y’see…
…and now,so many decades along
I still remember Percy,
and each time I raise a pint of Gee
I whisper “By God’s mercy”.
For,naturally,after all these years
Percy’s gone to his reward;
but I remember him with great respect,
“Look after Percy,Lord”…
And,even now,though it’s 45 years
since last I was in Percy’s presence,
to me,my pint of Guinness always
brings back Percy’s essence.
…Percy was a GOOD man,who KNEW we were underage,but let us into the ‘snug’ anyway,where he could keep an eye on us as we played card games and smoked Players No6 with our beers.
God bless him.
yes the days of non-political correctness when people felt comfortable making up their own rules as they went along
Weeell,it was a small pub,behind the church,away from the road,in a very small village,gummy-and PC Vale,who was our village policeman,used to let me have a go on his Velocette…which was BLOODY uncomfy,I might add.
Yeahhhh…goodole daze,when y’went to MEET your mates,not fkn text 'em or Skype 'em…we had actual contact-and were all the closer for it.
Love that poem Pug, nice tribute to an understanding innkeeper.
How times have changed. I think every locality had someone like Percy, alright there are many who’ll condemn that sort of thing with underage youngsters, but in my opinion it is better to have them indoors where one can keep an eye on them then running wild outside unsupervised, just my personal opinion you understand, I would sooner have one of my children having a pint in a public house then drinking God knows what or shooting up in some dingy alley or shed, thankfully none of them ever took to drugs or even to hard drinking, just a few drinks at the weekend,
We had a publican back in the early 60’s, a Jim Clancy, God be good to him, he used to let us into the “Snug” or the Diddy Parlour as he called it, probably because the ladies used to use it so much, Jim referred to these ladies as “Auld silent pints” Anyway the first time I went into the snug there was hushed debating amongst us lads as to who was to do the ordering, I was too small and baby faced looking so that ruled me out, finally is was the toughest looking and the tallest who landed the job. We would sit there as quite as mice until we got outside then the boasting would start on the way home “I drank one and a half pints and there’s not a bother on me” that type of thing, next morning you’d be as sick as a parrot…
In those days Women didn’t drink pints, it was the height of ignorance for a Woman to drink from a pint glass indeed the barmen would not serve a Woman a pint, half pints only, some pubs did not even allow Women in. On the other hand if a Man asked for a half pint Jim would give him a funny look and say “Sorry we don’t serve half pints to Men” then the inevitable question “Why’s that?” “Because it takes too long to wash the lipstick off the glasses” Of course you couldn’t say that now you’d be locked up, but no harm was ever meant by remarks like that back then, people were not as sensitive as they are today.
I have a shallow recollection of the early drinking days, I was just happy to Point Percy at the Porcelain.
Shanks for that Spitty,
It is fortunate, not being able to hold the beer, don’t mean making a fool, or otherwise, but not going stupid coz you would be baffled if you did. Viva the baffledless.
Ducks Delux put the toilet to music.
Too many posts per hour, there may be impingement.
your banned - what for ?-it doesn’t matter o h yes gooblyguck!
ohh those memories - started drinking before 18 that’s for sure in those days we would ride around on me mates motorbike drunk as skunks and no crash helmets but we steered away from towns and stuck to little country hamlets and always headed for the snug bar not the main.
yes we could have come a cropper but never did which just goes to show??? - over to you Pug!!!
Ohh,I’m no expert on the ethereal,gumbud. I do,however believe there’s an afterlife,just as there’s a ‘prelife’…because each-and-every-one of us has an imagination,a conscience,the ability to elucidate a point,or to argue our case,or side of a debate. Each of us has preferences,dislikes,personal attractions. We have the ability to invent,improve,consider,alter and even to create,in our own little ‘human’ fashion. This,is all down to synapses. Little electrical charges,flashing across and through the organ we call ‘the brain’.
Ergo-it’s an energy,a force of nature. Nothing can augment synaptic reaction,nothing can pre-empt it. It’s just energy. Minute in both stature and readable power,but energy. That energy,despite our best efforts,keeps us thinking,wondering,discovering,trying,all our lives. The body is merely a casing…it can degenerate and fail-unlike Altzeimer’s sufferers,who’s synaptic energy is proven not to diminish,even though their ability to communicate can-and does. One thing we know about energy is-you can NOT destroy it.
You can change it’s properties,you can alter it’s physical values,you can divert it,you can subjugate it into performing various tasks…but you can NOT destroy,delete or eliminate energy. So-I liken being born to being a raindrop. You’re part of a huge,seething,intermingling mass…then,suddenly,without warning,you’re a raindrop,a singularity,falling alone,single,insular…yet still connected to/with every other falling raindrop,in that you have a common destination and a common purpose-a ‘bond’. Then,SPLAT-raindrop hits the ground or falls into a body of water. At which point,depending on how and into what,it fell,it becomes either evaporated rapidly into the atmosphere to rejoin the mass and eventually repeat the process-or it becomes ‘one’ with the body of water into which it dropped,thus taking much longer to evaporate back into the atmosphere,the ‘mass’ and repeat said process. But either way,it remains and retains it’s energy,inasmuch as the hydrogen/nitrate/oxygen [etc] atoms that caused it’s formation in the first place are still living,still viable,and still ready to go again. Because the energy per-se,isn’t dissipated.
…and thus it is,I believe,with the ‘ego’ of the human mind. The ‘self’ that each of us is. At and as-of this moment,we’re merely falling raindrops,all of us…but on arrival at our destination,the cases we call bodies will be shed,freeing the ‘Id’,to float into and mingle with,the huge [understatement] morass of pure energy we call ‘The Universe’. Solidity is not a prerequisite of intelligence. Ipso-facto,thoughts,dreams and longings are not contained within the solid shell of our brain-cases. Oh and by the way;when I come back,I’m coming back as God-so WATCH it,pal!