Thursday, June 10, 2010

Bill of unfare

I've got the lurgy, a case of something unpleasant in the innards and a smasher of a headcold.

The latter is down to misfortune and the constant changing of the seasons, not to mention the fact that I ran out of Berocca and never stocked up, but the former can rest firmly at the door of the Porterhouse in Temple Bar.

Fuck them. Fuck the Porterhouse in Temple Bar and their luncheon brand of pig swill, billed on a pretty little front-and-back menu as breaded hake fillet and chunky chips, replete with pea purée infused with mint. No less.

I had no breakfast yesterday, you see, because the cupboards were bare and I didn't fancy a trip to see my pal The Unfriendly Bastard in Spar. I had some things to do in town anyway and found myself down Parliament Street way with the Thurles lad.

While he stuck to the basics, soup and a sandwich, I was driven demented by the yearning for a feed. Hence the plate of deep fried, fish-shaped shite, frozen chips and something green to resemble what I'd snat out earlier.

Hunger is a great sauce.

Cue me, twenty four hours later, on the way to an appointment on the Southside and stopping mid-walk to pretend to speak to someone on my mobile phone, my insides suddenly somerloping from Satan's food itself.

Did I make it? It was a fucking close call.


Holemaster said...

Walking home from the Merrion Inn, 2004. It came out of nowhere. I didn't make it.

(verification: gloginst)

Radge said...

Well, I always remember that line from Trainspotting.

"It does a lad good to get caught short once in a while."

On a side note, I turned off word verification for a day last week. Cue three 'anonymous' comments on ancient posts offering me shares in Viagra and/or Anglo Irish Bank.

I quickly turned it back on.

hope said...

So sorry to hear you're feeling bad.

That brought back unpleasant memories for me as well.

Except it was Chinese food. A large group of us went to the opening of a place called "Fu Gardens". You can guess what I thought of the first two letters about 12 hours later as the bathroom and I became inseparable companions.

Wasn't just all of us.

Feel better soon!

Radge said...

Thanks Hope, my own fault for not sending it back.

McMuck and the Mystery of the Kuúgleflarg said...

I seem to have a super stomach able to absorb all kinds of shite but Mrs McMuck, on no less an occasion than our honeymoon, took one bite out of an airline chicken-flavoured sandwich and was sipping whiskey for breakfast and lunch the following day to try and rid her belly of some god-awful sludge.

I ate the entire sandwich meanwhile and enjoyed double portions of everything the following day.

Waste not want not and such stuff.

Kitty Cat said...

Poor Radge. My friendly neighbourhood Spar on Dorset St has a Reasonably Nice Bastard, we should try swapping them while you're not well.

Sarah Gostrangely said...

Ooph. Not nice. Never trust fish-shaped, fasting-relieving fishes.

Hope you are installed near a latrine now.

Radge said...

Mook - Imitation chicken, I've been there. Never again.

Kitty Cat - If I had a dog I'd call him Reasonably Nice Bastard.

Sarah - Much better thanks. Tea, toast and a whole load of sitting has seen me right (apart from the sniffles).

Green Of Eye, Sharp Of Claw said...

Radge,when reading posts like this a little switch flicks in my brain and i turn into Mrs Doyle. Tea?Duvet? Lomotil? Toast? Motilium?

Hope the innards have settled :)

Radge said...

Tea? Check.

Duvet? Discarded. I'm feeling much better.

Lomotil? Never heard of it.

Toast? Check.

Motilium? Got me through a very rough night on Wednesday.

Green Of Eye, Sharp Of Claw said...

Lomotil=one tiny little tablet that cures the scutters(no polite way of saying that!)

Glad to hear you're recovering :)