The three lads were well installed on their regular barstools at Donleavy’s. ‘Regular’ might be one description but it does no justice to their sense of ownership. In reality, and for the purposes of health and safety, these barstools really should have the three amigo’s names fully inscribed somewhere to warn others. JP in the middle and Mono and Rasher as outriders. Clearly the regulars at Donleavy’s Drinking Emporium would never have the temerity to even approach these barstools within a certain radius – but the situation was very unfair to visitors who might unknowingly stray into this specific risky scenario. Luckily for all concerned Donleavy’s is not the type of pub that attracts visitors or a random footfall. Donleavy has his regulars, committed disciples of this particular offering, a faithful following.
So it was this stormy night with the wind hollowing around the rooftops that JP, Rasher and Mono once again found themselves taking refuge on the aforementioned barstools – patiently watching and waiting as their pints went through the last final eddies of settlement in their glasses. White separated cleanly on top of black and JP gave that almost imperceptible nod that synchronise pint drinking could commence. Each took a swig and returned their glass at exactly the same moment to its respective beermat. Forget about your Olympic Synchronised Swimming – this was true synchronised mastery in action. A period of reflection followed while each of the lads found their true physical barstool equilibrium and a balanced headspace to match. These guys were comfortable with silence. There was no talk just to fill a void. These were sincere players in the barroom arena.
JP had been staring at the spirit bottles for quite some time. It was where a lot of his inspiration came from. It was also the case that Mono and Rasher often had to jump some train tracks to get onto JP’s line. It started like this.
“Vodka.”
Mono looked at Rasher. Rasher looked at Mono. Two pairs of shrugged shoulders.
“Putin.”
Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. Eyebrows raised to the heavens.
A period of silence. Neither Mono nor Rasher in this instance was willing to give JP the satisfaction of enquiring regarding the connection. A period of prolonged silence.
“Imagine if he was sittin’ here instead of me on this bar stool in Donleavy’s.”
The two lads pursed their lips. They knew this conversation could now go anywhere and to places never before imagined. Another pause.
“….and you Rasher – had to give up your stool to Netanyahu….and you Mono – had to give up your stool to Trump. And they’re all nicely primed with pints of plain.”
The two lads nearly fell into their pints with laughter.
“Ya mean these mullockers have taken too much of the truth serum and are well pissed.”
“Yep. Got it in one.”
They each had a nice guffaw and went for another slug of pint. With a bit more contemplation, Rasher asked for a clarification.
“Does this mean I’m Netanyahu?”
“Yep.”
Mono let out a yelp.
“Jayzus. That means I’m The Donald. For feck sake. Magic 101.”
Each took a while to get into character. JP put on his sternest Russian face and tried to bring his voice down an octave.
“I want to thank you Benjamin. Since you started bombing the shit out of Gaza the world is watching you now. I can do whatever I want now in Ukraine.”
“You’re welcome, Vlad. Order another round there like a good man.”
“What is this round thing? Anyway, I don’t do what anyone says. I am Putin.”
Mono was in quickly.
“Hey, guys, hey. I know how this drinks round works. It’s a tremendous system. We each take turns with paying for the drinks. I’ll get the order. You are both just tremendous guys. Tremendous. Tremendous. Make Russia Great Again. Make Israel Great Again. MRGA. MIGA. Doesn’t really have the nice letters as MAGA. But still – tremendous, tremendous. I’m a big fan. A big fan.”
They waited while the pints were served and settled. After all – it doesn’t really matter if you are a world leader (or wannabe leader) – certain traditions need to maintain their priority.
“What do you mean? Make Russia great again. Russia has always been great. Russia is great. I do not like the way you speak. If you are not careful with me, I will take the 2025 election away from you.”
Rasher/Netanyahu laughed.
“That will teach you Donald. Vlad will cut your votes if you don’t behave.”
“Hey Benji. Don’t be so smart. When I’ve kicked Sleepy Joe out of the White House, you’ll need me to support you for all the killing of women and children. Don’t forget that. And to keep the International Court of Justice so tied up in knots that you’ll be well dead before they rule on you committing genocide.”
“Hey. Now I don’t like the way you speak.”
JP/Vlad decided that he needed to cut it.
“You think we care what you think Netanyahu? And what kind of a name is Netanyahu? It has no strength. And you complain about everything. Even if someone complained about the coffee in Tel Aviv airport, you’d be accusing them of antisemitism. But still – I appreciate you making such an atrocious mess of Gaza and the whole Middle East – I can literally bomb anything now – powerplants, schools, hospitals – and still the world press will be on your case.”
This was tiring stuff for the three guys having to concentrate on their characters. They sought sustenance in another swig of their pints. It gave them time to contemplate the next scene and how it might play out. Mono/Donald decided to go for it.
“You know we are all very alike. You are both doing such a tremendous job with immigrants. Tremendous job. Bombing them. I should think of that. Maybe forget the wall. I’ve probably milked that wall for all I could get out of it anyway. But yes. Tremendous. Bomb them. Don’t even need missile launchers or tanks anymore. Just drones all along the border. Tremendous. I must talk to my people.”
“You know nothing. Ukrainians are part of Russia. They are not immigrants.”
“You know nothing. Gazans are nothing to do with Israel. They are not immigrants.”
“Details. Gentlemen. Details. MAGA. MRGA. MIGA. We can do tremendous things. Tremendous.”
It almost seemed like Netanyahu and Putin had been ‘tremendoused-out’. There were no immediate responses. It seemed time to summarise.
“OK. Donald. My people will get you the election in 2025.”
“Thank you, Vlad. I’ll make sure to stymie the EU, the ICJ and NATO for you guys every chance I get.”
“I know you will.”
“And Benji – you bomb whoever you want. The US people have already turned off. It’s just the Primaries, the Election, and the NFL from here. And remember – if I can get away with storming the capital, there ain’t nothing off limits.”
Putin did his own summary.
“We will meet again in six months’ time in the Donleavy place. No-one would ever suspect us choosing this venue. But vodka next time. Not this black muck. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
The three lads stood up from the barstools in a ceremonious way and then sat down again.
“Jayzuz its thirsty work being a world leader.”
“Too shaggin’ right.”
“Catch Donleavy’s eye there – quick – in case we become a target for a drone strike.”
A finger went in the air. Donleavy acknowledged same. Pints were prepared. Just another night in Donleavy’s.
JP@Donleavy’s 