‘Gorf………….. Gorf……… GORF!!!’
‘Wha?.. Huh?’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yeah’
‘Well then, give us me beer.’
‘Oh, sorry’
The four of us, ManDonkey,Gorf, Giblets and meself are in McFools, Gorf has just returned from the bar and is standing at the end of the table with four pints in his hands, looking a bit perturbed.
‘What’s wrong with you, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?’
‘Nah, I’m grand.’
‘Was Auld Mick running naked around the bar again?’
‘No.’
‘C’mon what was it? McFool didn’t put the price of the beer up even though there was no increase in the budget, did he?’
‘NO, JAYSUS…. NO, Nothing like that!’
‘Then OUT with it man!’
‘Nurses’, he says.
‘Nurses?, we ask.
‘Nurses Party!’
Two words that strike fear into the hearts of committed men around town. If research was done, it would probably show that the prime cause of relationship breakdowns would be if a man was found, by his partner, to have been within half a mile of a nurses party.
Several nervous minutes pass. The door to the bar opens and four ladies emerge in fancy dress sipping cocktails. They take the table across from us at the other heater. Sevaral glances are exchanged with looks, the like of which I haven’t seen since I was surrounded and accosted by a pack of hungry dogs while wandering drunk around the back streets of Kathmandu at 2 o’clock in the morning, that ‘I’m going to eat you and you’re going to enjoy it’ look.
After their cigarettes are finished they return to the warmth of the bar.
‘That was close.’
‘It was.’
Several more minutes pass.
‘OK, who’s up?’
‘Not me’, says Gorf, ‘I’ve just gone!’
‘And I’m married’, says ManDonkey
‘Giblets?’
‘No way!’
‘Why not, you’re single!’
‘Noooo way, not even with a catapult and a bucket full of mickeys would you get me in there!’
‘Bastard, so what’ll we do?’
‘Sarch’s?’
‘Sarch’s’
Sarch’s we agree and off we went.
(To be cont’d)
