Angry Pensioners: The Scourge Of Irish Society.
They're going to tea us to death, I swear it. Last night in a Parish Hall in Athlone I fell afoul of a rather angsty septuagenarian, vexed as he was that I was standing a little too close to the tea and cake stand.
He started off quite politely, lightly ushering myself and the boys towards the makeshift bar, but the end of his sentence belied a rage that comes from being close to the cloth.
"Sorry lads, I couldn't just get ye to... MOVE LADS! G'WAN! MOVE!"
"My apologies. I never know where to stand at a funeral."
We left shortly afterwards.