The three lads – JP, Mono and Rasher – were seated at the bar counter and awaiting the first delivery of the night. Donleavy was finishing off the pints with all the attention, skill, and care of a master craftsman. Each of our three amigos had their heads angled in his direction following every delicate movement of glass and tap. After a suitable settling time, Donleavy applied the last finishing touch and delivered the glasses. No silly shamrocks in the cream. No crazy designs. Just simple perfection in a glass. The three guys watched those last magical eddies make their final choice and disappear into white or black. When separation was complete, they did what they do best – they absorbed a subliminal message to each other to reach out at exactly the same moment and take that first taste of the night.
As much to follow the pattern of the pints, JP Mono and Rasher had their own settling period. Buttocks were oscillated from left to right on the barstools; elbows had to find an equilibrium resting place on the bar counter; pints and coasters were moved and twisted until everything was just so. Some sounds were emitted. There was definitely an oooh and maybe a couple of aaahs. It certainly seemed to the casual observer that all was right with the world before the next aliquot of pints was consumed. After that, a request was transmitted to Donleavy by the acknowledged ritual of a finger raised in the air to prepare further supply. The first pint never lasted as long as the subsequent followers. It was as if a thirst needed to be quenched before some level of balance and stability was reached. Subsequent pints could then be afforded a greater level of attention and patience.
Were there any words exchanged before the second pint arrived? If there had have been any CCTV in the bar it would definitely have confirmed that silence had been the winner. But let’s be absolutely clear here. There is no CCTV in Donleavy’s bar. No piped music. No jukebox. No gaming machines. No pool table. No dartboard. Donleavy just about acknowledges the right to bring mobile phones into the bar. And….he had to think long and hard about allowing a condom machine in the Jacks. Donleavy has values and standards that he is unwillingly to trade for custom. It’s a matter of principle.
JP, as was so often the case, was the first to offer a conversational opener.
“Have ya ever done somethin’ and covered it up and lied through yer teeth to preserve the lie?”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. As if to say WTF, where did that come from?
Rasher kept his tongue for a while and then couldn’t keep it for any longer.
“Jayzus. JP. What the fuck. Where did tha’ come from?”
JP just shrugged. Mono added his piece.
“What kind of a bleedin’ question is tha’? Wha’ would be the point of coverin’ somethin’ up and then sayin’ tha’ you covered somethin’ up? Are you losin’ yer marbles JP to ask a question like tha’?”
They went back to synchronised pint drinking for a while. Eyes were directed towards the reflection of the spirit bottles in the bar counter mirror. The topic seemed to become submerged in their individual reveries until JP went back to the well one more time.
“We’ve all done it. I don’t want to know if ya had an erotic affair or if ya killed yer granny ‘cause she said you were in her will. But ya had small stuff – didn’t ya?”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. Clearly JP wasn’t letting this lie.
“Well – you bleedin’ say somethin’ JP. What lie have ya been livin’ with? Purge yerself to yer pals.”
Rasher smiled at Mono. Definitely a small success here. A turning of the tables.
JP thought for a while and then after a low whistle through his teeth he began.
“We’re all friends here?”
“Yep.”
“Yep.”
“What’s said in the bar stays in the bar.”
“Yep.”
“Yep.”
“Well – I scraped the side of the car when I was parkin’ it one day. Nice bit of cosmetic damage. Both doors. Sad lookin’. What was worse was that I was lookin’ at some young one’s arse passin’ by at the time. I told ‘her indoors’ that some little bastards did it in the supermarket car park. Even told her I chased ‘em until me lungs gave up. Gave her descriptions of the little hounds. Where I even guessed they lived. Maybe even too detailed. She reckoned we’d enough info to go to the guards. Nearly a bigger job to persuade her it wasn’t worth it. Such a great performance that I could never go back and tell the truth.”
The two lads took this in for a period of time while they all went back to their pints for inspiration and reflection. Now, Rasher whistled through his teeth.
“Jayzus, JP. Still lookin’ at the menu, eh? Serves ya bleedin’ right.”
“Yeah, JP. I can understand why ya wouldn’t ‘fess up to that one.”
There was silence for a while.
“Well lads? What are yer guilty secrets?”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. They both broke out in a laugh.
“No shaggin’ way, JP.”
“Ya were stupid once, well now ya’ve been stupid again.”
“Yeah. No way we’re tellin’.”
“And wait ‘til I’m talkin’ to yer wife again.”
“Some young one’s arse…!”
“What a bleedin’ plonker.”
“Ah, lads. Fair is fair.”
“Nothin’s fair in this life.”
JP went back to his pint. Rasher and Mono took this as the signal to synchronise another swallow of the black magic. When the bar world equilibrated again, JP took to the sound waves once more.
“What made me think of this was two recent cases goin’ through the courts.”
“Yeah. What are they?”
“In one – the fecker who killed his wife. They eventually found her in concrete under the stairs. But for years he vehemently denied anythin’. Said she’d disappeared. Pleaded for her to return or for whoever knew anythin’ to get in touch.”
“Yeah. The towrag. What was the other one?”
“The other fecker who violently stabbed the girl in broad daylight. They caught him. He admitted he did it. The found his DNA under the girl’s fingernails. Open and shut – you’d think. But the fecker is now pleadin’ not guilty.”
“Yeah. What the bleedin’ hell is goin’ on there?”
It was time for another moment of reflection – i.e., more pint. Then JP took the lead again.
“What I was thinkin’ in both cases was how much money has and would be spent. Police and detective work. Diggin’ up different places in the first case lookin’ for the body. Court cases with legal bods, witnesses, experts, jury people. The cost must be enormous.”
“Yeah. And we’re payin’ for it, JP.”
“That was exactly my thought, Rasher.”
“And all because the feckers who were goin’ to be caught anyway – just wouldn’t put their hands up.”
More drink was taken. It was getting to that critical decision point in the night. Do they order another one or do they finish up? In actuality, there was a non-visible volume line on the glass which made the decision automatically. If the glass volume dropped below this line and one of our three amigos had not called for replenishments, then the evening was over. The alternative – sitting in front of an empty glass waiting for new pints – was never going to happen. This was totally against pint drinking etiquette. A mortal sin in the world of pint drinkers. The line was drawn and in this case the line had been passed. It was wrap-up time.
“So what’s yer real point JP? Yer goin’ to tell yer wife about the young one’s arse and the car damage? Yer goin’ to make a full confession and take the punishment and get it all off yer conscience.”
“I am in me hoop.”
“If I was yer legal eagle, I would support that approach. Keep yer sphincter tight and yer defence even tighter.”
“Yeah. I’m joining Mono on yer legal team and I’m good with that. Believe the lie. Visualise it. Them bleedin’ hooligans in the car park. Bastards.”
“Guess that’s the way of the world.”
The pint glasses were drained in a statement of joint agreement and solidarity.
“D’ya wanna visualise a battered cod and chips?”
“I can already see it, smell it, taste it.”
“Off we go so – give Donleavy the nod.”
Just another night in Donleavy’s.
JP@Donleavy’s 