Disillusioned, as I was, with life following a torrid day at work on Tuesday comparing that nights dual broadcasts did not appeal to me, but I done it anyway and somehow managed 2100 words about their comparisons and contrasts on Wednesday morning merging with early afternoon.
Headed to the cathair for a couple of brews to celebrate, initially went to the Conradh but got dragged over to the Village where I experienced something fabled in Myth and Legend; a free bar. TG4, the fools, footed the bill as meself and my vocalists, Cathal and Máckaí drained them, literally sucking the life blood outta the place.
Having told Nick to join us originally, I then lied to him, saying the jig was up, a selfish act on my part which, nevertheless, guaranteed impecable and instant bar service from our token Eastern European bar-man. Ran into my Irish teacher from College, Antaine O'Fearacháin who threatened me with failing the Course if I continued to boycott his class at the ungodly hour of 9 on a wednesday morning.
I tried to explain it to him, 'but, Antaine, your class is shit,' unfortunately the big man wasn't inebriated in the least bit and I'm told he wasn't impressed in the least bit neither, fuck him!!!
Eventually Máckaí was summoned home and me and Cathal, in search of company(we get lonely ridiculously easily and regularly) fluttered over to the Conradh to graze. Initial reservations at the door in relation to letting us in were surpassed and two pints were placed in front of us(still don't know where they came from?!).
Much banter ensued as crazy Cathal let it rip, drenching the poor establishment with his intestinal fluids(I didn't see it but I'm told it was outstanding). I was hailed from the ground-floor to care for him, I nurtured the drunken squirrel as he unleashed a tirade of abuse which, if repeated here would cause your eyes to melt(dinna remeber anyhow). Eventually I gave up trying to calm him and chain-smoked twenty Marlboro to quell the rising tide of anxiety spurred on by relentless threats of police intervention. Having been thrown out and barred(and now un-barred,Hooray!!) there was nothing more for us to do but Cathal didn't see it that way.
I managed to force him to the gate and beyond and the Conradh was able to lock its hallowed gates. I defended my buddy, as he assaulted the gate with great fury, from passer-by's comments by verbally attacking and flicking d'old smoke butts at the motherfucks. At last Cathal, rather inevitably, fell asleep on the ground allowing me the precious chance to bundle his ass into a taxi and make a suave exit from town.
Distributed his behind at his gaff and strolled home singing Hanson and vandalising the odd Gaff too.
Headed to the cathair for a couple of brews to celebrate, initially went to the Conradh but got dragged over to the Village where I experienced something fabled in Myth and Legend; a free bar. TG4, the fools, footed the bill as meself and my vocalists, Cathal and Máckaí drained them, literally sucking the life blood outta the place.
Having told Nick to join us originally, I then lied to him, saying the jig was up, a selfish act on my part which, nevertheless, guaranteed impecable and instant bar service from our token Eastern European bar-man. Ran into my Irish teacher from College, Antaine O'Fearacháin who threatened me with failing the Course if I continued to boycott his class at the ungodly hour of 9 on a wednesday morning.
I tried to explain it to him, 'but, Antaine, your class is shit,' unfortunately the big man wasn't inebriated in the least bit and I'm told he wasn't impressed in the least bit neither, fuck him!!!
Eventually Máckaí was summoned home and me and Cathal, in search of company(we get lonely ridiculously easily and regularly) fluttered over to the Conradh to graze. Initial reservations at the door in relation to letting us in were surpassed and two pints were placed in front of us(still don't know where they came from?!).
Much banter ensued as crazy Cathal let it rip, drenching the poor establishment with his intestinal fluids(I didn't see it but I'm told it was outstanding). I was hailed from the ground-floor to care for him, I nurtured the drunken squirrel as he unleashed a tirade of abuse which, if repeated here would cause your eyes to melt(dinna remeber anyhow). Eventually I gave up trying to calm him and chain-smoked twenty Marlboro to quell the rising tide of anxiety spurred on by relentless threats of police intervention. Having been thrown out and barred(and now un-barred,Hooray!!) there was nothing more for us to do but Cathal didn't see it that way.
I managed to force him to the gate and beyond and the Conradh was able to lock its hallowed gates. I defended my buddy, as he assaulted the gate with great fury, from passer-by's comments by verbally attacking and flicking d'old smoke butts at the motherfucks. At last Cathal, rather inevitably, fell asleep on the ground allowing me the precious chance to bundle his ass into a taxi and make a suave exit from town.
Distributed his behind at his gaff and strolled home singing Hanson and vandalising the odd Gaff too.
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