Tuesday nights were the quietest nights of the week in Donleavy’s. Mondays competed for the title but there were always a few hardy people with some money left over from the weekend – or a few Sunday hangovers that somehow believed that the hair of the dog was the appropriate answer. Anyway – by Tuesday all these had dissipated. By Wednesday there were braver souls creeping back into the fold. None of these parameters effected our three amigos – JP, Rasher and Mono took their personal stools at the bar counter and gave the nod to Donleavy. No words were exchanged or required and in double quick time – no doubt assisted by the absence of punters – three creamy pints were settling in magical fashion in front of our heroes.
JP as always flanked by his two lieutenants took the finally settled pint and held it aloft like a holy grail. Mono and Rasher followed the lead.
‘Slainte’
They nodded, slowly lowered their glasses and in perfect synchronisation took the first mouthful. A series of satisfied sounds followed and then glasses were reverently placed on equidistant beermats. An exercise in symmetry. An exemplar of communication and coordination. If pint drinking were to become an Olympic event – these boys represented the gold standard.
JP spent some time eyeing the bottles behind the bar counter. Donleavy was a collector and there was no shortage of exotic drinks – lots of them foreign to even the most learned alcoholophile. One small bottle riveted his attention.
He motioned to Donleavy with a finger in the air.
As if on an air cushion, Donleavy glided along the bar length and was in front of them.
‘Jayzus, JP. Ya hardly want another round already. My wrist still remembers pulling those pints ‘
JP moved his head from side to side
‘No thanks Mr D. And proper good pints they are. No. I have a question for ya.’
‘Fire away JP – for its a well known fact that a properly trained barman – or – bar person – as the licensed vintners are being encouraged to say – knows the answers to all questions – no matter how complex or trivial’
‘This one is right down your alley or – your counter – really. That bottle of Babycham. How old is it?’
‘Jayzus, JP. I’d say it’s before they were putting ‘best before dates’ on bottles. I’m guessing it must be around forty years.’
Mono chipped in lightning fast
‘I’d say it’s lost most of its bubbles so.‘
Rasher was ready to rifle off another round
‘Well, the young fawn on the label has had time to grow into an old dear or an old deer and join Bambi in the skies.’
Donleavy lowered his head to his chest and placed his hand on his heart.
‘May Bambi and Babycham be frolicking together in the best forest in the sky.’
They all had a good smile around that one.
The lads revisited their pints. Donleavy stayed where he was and opened up again.
‘Seriously though lads. Ya could see the fawn frolickin’ again. The fawn never really died and Babycham is being relaunched. ‘
The three boys sat there with their mouths wide open.
‘Jayzus. I knew it was the leg opener of choice in the 50’s and 60’s but I thought it died then.’
‘Who knows what works anymore?’
‘I can’t see it myself – Champagne Perry and the Millenials? But – as ya say – who knows?’
Donleavy floated on down the counter leaving the lads to their thoughts. JP was left deep in concentration. He seemed to be staring intently at the label on the little Babycham bottle and the jumping fawn. Finally, he spoke.
‘Disruptive Technologies’
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. It was always this kind of standoff as to who was going to ask the question. Mono couldn’t hold out any longer.
‘Eh yeah. What are disruptive technologies when they are home.’
JP straightened his spine, threw out his chest and looked at each of his pals in turn, finishing with a smile towards Mono.
‘I’m glad you asked me that, young Mono. These are important things. Remember CDs?’
Mono looked at Rasher. Rasher looked at Mono. Each shrugged his shoulders.
‘Of course I still remember them, ya clown. I have shelves full of them at home. Hard to forget them when I see them every evening. Are ya all right JP?’
JP raised his glass, and this was the indication for each to take another swig. That done, Rasher raised a finger to Donleavy to ensure continuity of supply.
‘Downloads. Downloads are an example of a destructive technology that has already killed CDs. CDs in turn killed cassettes and records. That’s how it goes.’
The two lads had a think about this for a while. Certainly made sense. Couldn’t fault it. Mono piped up
‘Well if I get ya right JP. Streamin’ has killed DVDs which killed VHS cassettes which strangled Betamax before it could even draw breath. ‘
JP threw his hands up in the air in mock celebration.
‘By George he has it. By George I think he’s got it. Absolutely on the money, Mono. Spot on my friend. Bullseye. ‘
Mono smiled. He also reddened. He knew he shouldn’t, but every time JP said something positive about him, he always got a bit embarrassed. Why? He never knew. There were only the three of them there.
They all quietened again as Donleavy delivered the incoming and gave them an excuse to drain their glasses. The settling process was followed through every eddy of alcoholic current until a razor-sharp separation resulted. As they reached for their pints JP threw out a teaser.
‘What do ya think we have now that will disappear with technology?’
The question was thrown out in a way that didn’t disrupt the initial pint tasting sequence but filled the thought space as the beer mats re welcomed their tenants. There was a silence for what seemed like an interminable time. Finally Mono was on cue again.
‘Taxis!’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. We’ll have self-drive cars on demand.’
They did a round of high fives. Mono reddened again.
‘Nice one!’
The three heads moved in all different directions for a while before the next Eureka moment.
‘Spare parts!’
The other two wrinkled their faces
‘Huh?’
‘No more spare parts for anythin’. We all 3-D print them at home. ‘
The wrinkles smoothened out.
‘I like that one!’
Quietness was restored. You could hear a pin drop, but you could also smell the neurons burning in the brain accelerator cavity.
‘Offices’
‘Yeah’
‘Covid and WFH did for them. ‘
The pace was starting to quicken.
‘GPs.’
‘Ya’re jokin’ aren’t you?’
‘Nah. I read it somewhere. AI will take over.
The bull sperm thing?’
‘No ya ludramon. Artificial intelligence. ‘
A slight reddening.
‘Lawnmowers’
Quizzical looks.
‘The little automatic lads?’
‘Yeah. Has to happen. What kind of perversion is involved with Joe Soaps who like mowin’ grass?
They nodded.
‘Telephone boxes and public telephones and landlines are already as good as gone. What’ll take to get rid of the mobile?’
‘Hmmm!’
‘Doesn’t look like the watch or the glasses will substitute any time soon?’
They called Donleavy over and looked for fresh ideas.
‘Sex!’, he threw in immediately.
‘Sex?’
‘Yeah – remember Woodie Allen’s orgasmatron? Definitely less complicated.
Donleavy’s domestic situation was less than smooth. Probably no surprise he volunteered this suggestion. He volunteered another.
‘I’ll tell you one thing that yer disruptive bleeding’ technology will never replace?’
‘Wha’ ?, a trio echoed.
‘A pint!’
They raised their glasses to that.
Rasher called for silence.
‘I’ll tell ya another thing disruptive technology will never get near?’
‘Wha?’, they were all ears.
‘A smoked cod and chips!’
That was the signal. They drained their pints and were springing out the bar door like young deer.
Just another night in Donleavy’s
JP@Donleavy’s 