It was going to be a very different Thursday night in Donleavy’s bar. Some of the natural order of conversation would be turned on its head.
“I’m tellin’ ya. I always said it. There was somethin’ creepy ‘bout that Jackson fella. I said it. I said it again. But did ya listen to me. Ah no. Ya cut me down. Ya said he was a genius. That’s what ya said. Ya told me that genius had to be different. Ya bate me into submission. Ya told me I was a dickhead. Dickhead me hole. Who’s the dickhead now? Huh.”
On this occasion JP looked at Mono and Mono looked at JP. This was quite possibly the longest and most voluble rant that Rasher had ever engaged with. Even Donleavy came scurrying up the bar to see what was going on. Donleavy thought that there had been a shemozzle between the three amigos. Something that had never happened before – thus the turn of pace that Donleavy uncharacteristically brought into play.
“OK”, JP said in a hushed tone with the cadence dropping between the O and the K – if you know what I mean. Like you’d use when talking to a complete looney. Agreeing with them no matter if they said that Trump was an icon of diversity and inclusion.
“OK, Rasher, OK. You did say that. It’s true. You said it. You said there was something not quite right about the Jackson fella. Fair play to ya.”
“Yeah”, Mono quickly added. “Yeah. Fair play. More power. Ya called it.”
JP looked at Mono. Mono looked at JP. There was heat in the air. This was unusual. Usually it was just sparks but nothing was ever going to catch a light. No wonder that Donleavy did a Usain Bolt behind the bar. There was only one thing to do and JP knew how this needed to be handled.
“Three pints, there, Donleavy. The black nectar of the Gods.”
Yeah”, Mono quickly added. “Fair play. Well called.”
It was important to keep drinking and to fill in the gaps in drinking with some ‘stuff’ talk. This looked like it was in danger of heading to somewhere personal – and that couldn’t be allowed. Had to be avoided at all costs. There were lifetime friendships at stake here. Jaysus – what if Rasher?…..what if someone messed with Rasher as a kid? Best get the conversation onto another track ASAP. But Rasher wasn’t to be diverted.
“We knew he was a loop the loop. We all knew. Why didn’t anyone call it? Imagine. Nobody called it. What the hell is it with bloody co-called celebrities? Why do we not call it?”
JP didn’t look at anyone. He looked in the bar mirror behind the counter. Jaysus. Rasher had hit onto something here. Something so bloody obvious. Sometimes if you step in something – and if it smells like shit, looks like shit and…..then it probably is…….The reflection in the mirror stared back at JP and it had an accusing look in its eyes. Or was it a disappointed like? Or just sad. The pints weren’t even tasting good. JP thought he might have to have a word with Donleavy later. A word in the ear maybe.
“Why do we do it?”
Now JP had to look at Mono – and Mono looked at JP with a shrug. Rasher kept going which eliminated the need for the obvious question.
“What makes us think that an actor, an actress, a footballer, a golfer, a singer, a musician – what makes us think that just because they are good at one little thing in life – that they are also clever, responsible, caring and even know right from wrong? What makes us think that successful business people are better’n us? Most of them – for all we know – could be the biggest shits that were ever put into shoe leather.”
Rasher had the scent in his nostrils and he was not going to take his snout from the trail. His hackles were up and he wasn’t going to lie down. The fire was in his eyes and was burning fiercely. Jaysus – he’d turned into a red-eyed, foxy bloodhound, supping a pint – not a pretty mental picture.
“Are we that bleedin’ empty and insecure that we need to glorify someone who can sing a song? A bloke can hit a small round ball really well – are we so bleedin’ stupid that we think he’s the best family man and community person around? And some girl who can act out a scene really well – does that mean she’s some form of bleedin’ role model for how we live our lives. We’ve lived through enough bleedin’ economic depressions to know that we should pass every statement from a politician, a banker, an economist, a business person through a bath of acid before we let it hit our ears. But do we? Nah. We believe the same shite time after time.”
There was silence. Well not quite silence. It’s hard to be completely silent when you are drinking pints. But it went on for a while, whatever you call it.
“So – what should we do?”
It was said quietly with overtones of uncertainty and undertones of doubt.
“I think we should go ‘round to the chipper for a large one and a spice burger.”
“Mighty thinking.”
“Magic one-oh-one.”
“Gone so.”
JP@Donleavy’s 