Saturday, December 06, 2008

"He's no Daniel, is he?" "No, Margaret. He is not."

Sakes. There's a party on next door. Students.

I'm old, I'm drinking tea, I'm in work at 9 in the morning, working on a Sunday, shut up ta fuck.

If not, can I avail of free Bulmers? What are you kids drinking these days anyway? Oh. Buckfast and piss. Don't mind if I do. The piss does nothing for it but when in Rome...

= = =

I'm just back from seeing Des Bishop in Vicar Street. He was good but I kept thinking he was looking directly at me. "Don't look at my FUCKING FACE!" I wanted to scream above the laughter and jokes about the Irish language*.

You can't deny the man's swagger and he paces his sentences just.... about... right but from a couple of rows back he looks a little bit like Lee Evans and I'm not forgiving anyone who reminds me of the chimpish little shit.

Still, affable fellow is old Des with his newly grey hair and his tales of ridin' his brother. At least I think that's what he was talking about, the sound was a little bit off.

Just when he really tickled me he'd give an apologetic 'I'm just joking' or 'I'm only messing'. Disappointing. Maybe he wasn't looking at me after all, he was playing to the two stony-faced grannies slightly off to my left. They didn't take.

*Rosie would have baulked at his pronunciation.

2 comments:

Red Leeroy said...

I have never warmed to the Des fella. Not that I ever gave him a chance. Perhaps that is the problem in itself. wait a second !!!!

Radge said...

There ya have it Leeroy!

He's grand. Not brilliant but very far from shite.