Pull The Other One, John...

Dicking about in New Ross, on the south coast, today.

Took a few schnapps of The Dunbrody, a Famine ship.

Boring.

Took a few schnapps of the Monument To The Big Irish God Of Smells And Bells.

Boring.

Landscapes and architecture should be left to those who wouldnt know the glint of a chancers eye if it bit them on the arse, twice, so....

Off for a pint, then....

And by Jaysus did I hit paydirt.

My newest best friend is John, proprietor of the Theatre Tavern, on South Street, New Ross.

John has been pulling pints, (and more, Im sure) since 1979.

The pub is a beauty, an utter gem, its walls chaotic with pictures of everything and anything, but mostly of cast and character shots from every theatrical production across the street spanning the last three decades and more.

There is enough foreign currency pinned behind the bar, and ceiling, to cancel the national debt of a small African republic.

I would revisit the joint just for the smoking area, a contrarily kitch collection of furniture, photographs, music enamels ("Lynard Skynard- Support Southern Rock!!!!), and amateurish but attractive Celtic hand painted murals, and 1798 rebellion scenes.

Fuckin Deadly...

John, the Bossman, joined me for a cigar, and we fell to talking...

Just as one might casually mention the affliction of lumbago, or hay fever, John, obviously abhorring ignorance in matters corporeal, told me he had an artificial leg.

I laughed my hole off (what else could I do? Apologise? Fuck that, sure it wasnt MY fault...)

"You must knock some craic out of that" says I.
"Wait til I tell you," says John. "This is fuckin BRILLIANT!!!!....)

( I nearly pissed my panties in anticipation...)

"One day", says John, "I had to go to the chiropidist with the one good foot I have left, and she did her thing, pokin and pullin, filin and foosterin, and it was takin ages, and me with another appointment at half two, s I got up to leave, as she was finished with the necessary, puttin the shoe and sock back on, and she says ...

"Hould on, I have to do the other one!"

"Well", says John, "Can I leave it with you, and I'll collect it later?"

The poor mare.

And I wetted my panties.....

If you are ever in Ireland, no matter where, make your way to New Ross, to John......