The Wednesday Club

For those of you watching in black and white, Martin is the guy in the blue shirt.
Martin works the sticks in Joes a few nights a week, tuning a sympathetic, professional bar ear to the (predominantly) male clientele who suck at his taps.
Martin is big as a ships chandelry, a professional architect pulling pints to make ends meet in this poxridden recession.
At the far end, my good mate J., retired career old-school cop, pulled the pension as soon as allowed, and has since found love, and a measure of contentment, I think. I sleep easier at night knowing that a man like him is there to watch my back, if ever the need arises.
In the middle, Little J., (to distinguish him from Big J., of course.) Nice lad, from Mullingar, or some other outpost of sheepshaggery, says "Yup Yup" too often when under the influence, but still A Good Lad.
Finally, Mark Absolutely. Because Nothing. Ever. Is. A. Problem. Absolutely. Going thro a messy seperation, adores his Pixie daughter to distraction, trying to make sense and the best of a rotten situation.
The lads meet once a week, watch football, or Hurling, and dont talk about their problems.
Real Men.