Sunday, May 30, 2010

The burner

Last night, a stag party for the old housemate. Kehoes then a restaurant called Venu then outside McDaids, I think.

Anyway, as I waited for my monkfish (edible but hardly transcendant) the brother of the man in question came up to me.

"How would you like to send Ronan Keating a text message?"

"WOULD I?" I responded. "In case I'm not being clear, I would, yeah."

I'm not sure how he got the number, with the amount of drink taken I'm having trouble recalling the finer points, but he called it out to me.

I texted: 'We're right behind you boss. Fair play and God bless.'

Sorrily for us the message wasn't delivered. Fucker must have changed up.

4 comments:

McMuck and the Mystery of the Kuúgleflarg said...

Hopefully the anguish he feels as a result of the split can be used constructively and artistically and from this pain he can pen many more Boyzone albums to keep us enthralled for years to come.




*In case I'm not being clear, that's as sarky as your message of support

This Limbo said...

You mean "love rat" Ronan Keating?
I saw he and his wife pictured in the lesser papers "in happier times" today.
Some cliches, it would appear, just aren't allowed to grow old gracefully and die.

Radge said...

Mook - I actually got that, despite hungoverness.

Regina - I'll be a happier man the second I don't see his forehead on the front page.

Holemaster said...

Who's Ronan Keating?

(Oh how I wish I really meant that)