Donleavy’s humour had not improved in the last number of days. He could frequently be heard muttering and kicking bottle caps as he walked behind the bar counter. Nobody could swear for certain what the words were, but most concurred that they were hearing ‘Mickey Martin’ a lot, and there was some agreement on ‘sleeveen’, with limited votes for ‘soldier of misery’ and ‘fianna fecker’. It certainly seemed like the stress of keeping open a Covid illegal bar was beginning to take a toll on the usually relaxed bar owner. Also clear was who Donleavy blamed for him having to keep his licensed premises operating under the radar. If the leader of the Government of Ireland had back pain, then it was very likely from Donleavy’s voodoo doll.
JP sat in his usual position at the bar at the apex of the sacred trinity of himself, Mono and Rasher. As god-fearing, solid citizens they played their part in the pandemic crisis by having their bar stools further apart from each other than was their usual pattern. JP sat in the middle as per normal flanked by his two-meter outriders.
JP raised his pint at the reflection of the three amigos in the bar mirror and the other two followed suit.
“First one today.”
“Yeah – outta this glass.”
“Yeah – and I hope we get through it without the pub getting’ raided.”
JP and Mono looked sternly at Rasher. The furrowed brows, the laser eyes and the tilt of the heads said it all.
“What…wha’…don’t tell me ye havin’ been thinkin’ ‘bout it. You know The Peelers have been raidin’ even the legit pubs lookin’ for dodgy dealings. You don’t think Donleavy is goin’ get done some day? Why’d’ya think he has a face on him like a pig that just licked piss off a nettle?”
The two boys continued to stare at him.
“What…wha’…ya know this as well as I do”.
Slowly they went back to each of them staring at the bottles on the bar counter while indulging in synchronous visits to their pints. The calm had been disrupted and it took some time before the breathing was restored to an even pattern, before the shoulders gently sagged and the flat foreheads returned. JP had that look about him where the other two knew that it was just a matter of whether he would launch into something at the end of one pint or the beginning of another. But like Cape Canaveral on a fine day – the launch was assured. JP didn’t disappoint.
“The world is a very inconsistent place.”
There. It was out. The lure had been cast into the mysterious waters of Rasher and Mono’s minds. Even if they wanted to resist the hook – one of them was bound to take the bait.
Rasher.
“Yeah. Yeah. Obviously. Clearly. But why in particular.?”
JP shifted his stare to the cognac bottles. He spotted an Armagnac. He wondered when Donleavy had last sold a glass of Armagnac. This was more a porter and beer type gaff. A G&T was considered exotic. A Pernod was positively out there. Usually for some shithead’s moth just back from a fortnight on a French campsite. But…Armagnac…? JP brought his mind back into focus.
“Why, so? Just thinkin’…you make one mistake these days, one slip of the tongue, one opinion that doesn’t sit well with the masses and the Nuremberg Twitter Trials will have ya out of a job before ya can say…”well, actually what I meant to say was””.
Rasher and Mono slugged their pints and then nodded their heads in slow agreement.
Rasher dived into the conversation current again.
“You’re dead right, JP. George Hook got the bullet from the radio for one shaggin’ controversial opinion.”
“Yeah -and Kevin Myers lost his newspaper column.”
“…and what about this GDPR crap or whatever it’s called. That’s madness in the other direction. If it smells like shit, feels like shit, tastes like shit…. you still call it shit’…but maybe not.”
The three lads racked their brains for examples. They looked at each other one to one – willing an outcome. Mono was first to explode out of the blocks.
“…the visitors books at the tourist sites…d’ya’member…they took them away. ”
That was all it took to get the cascade falling.
“…and the muggers. D’ya’member …RTE couldn’t show their faces…”
“…yeah…and the Barristers that were creamin’ all the money…couldn’t name them either. GD-bleedin’-PR. World’s gone mental.”
Rasher fired his finger in the air for Donleavy to get going with replacement pints. The gesture was enough to calm the swell. The lads went back to the serious time management of nursing the pint in front of them until incoming was confirmed. Donleavy arrived with his big paws enveloped around the three fresh pint glasses. A sense of stillness began to settle in harmony with the pints.
JP sighed.
“But on d’other hand – when did bare faced, in your mush, downright lyin’ become OK?”
Mono looked at Rasher. Rasher looked at Mono.
“Trump”, they said in stereo.
“Yeah. What other American President ended up with everythin’ he said goin’ through a fact checker because he told so many big fat porkies.?”
“Guess he’s no George Washington.”
“Deffo.”
Rasher imitated a very poor American accent.
“ Trump would say – there never was a cherry tree, it was just fake news that there was ever a cherry tree there, if there had been a cherry tree – it should have a wall built around it, and if there had been a cherry tree it would have been the biggest cherry tree in the world, we can make cherry trees great again, but there never was a cherry tree there to begin with, I am the future of cherry trees, without me there can never be great trees again.”
The boys guffawed into their pints.
“Suppose we Irish can’t really talk. We had politicians who were clearly found out to be lyin’ to legal tribunals and then stood up in the Chamber and shouted and ranted about their good names.”
“True. True.”
More of the pints were emptied.
“And what about that vaccine guy.?”
“Yeah. The guy who had the paper in the Lancet and then they had to pull it all back because it was a big fraud.”
“That’s him – – he was struck off, wasn’t he?”
“He was. But now he’s swanin’ around the US with loads of money and a celebrity model for eye candy.”
“…And you know wha’?”
“Wha’?”
“He was at one of Trump’s inauguration gigs.”
“Well – that says it all.”
The boys were momentarily silent while they digested this connection
“What about a fish supper?”
“D’ya’know – I feel like a bit of a change. Maybe I’ll get a kebab.”
“Brave.”
“Yeah -you’ll see that again.”
“C’mon. Wave to Donleavy there.”
JP@Donleavy’s 