Well what would you do.Parker Dunne came in at lunchtime on
Thursday with free passes on the Jonathan Swift and the keys
to his mate's flat in Liverpool,all buck shee for the weekend.Dr.
Tim and myself volunteered to use the passes so they wouldn't
go to waste and as the sailing was at 4.30 p.m. there wasn't time
to get our own weekend passes,me from Malicia,Tim from his
war-office,as he calls her,but we were sure (at the time) that
they would have given us their blessings.
It had been a few years since my last trip to the Grand National
and although I've never missed it on the telly,there is no sub-
stitute for being there in the flesh.The bodies glistening with
sweat,nostrils flaring,manes swishing this way and that as
their eyes searched out someone to buy their drinks.It was as
if I'd never missed a meeting there as the old question popped
up once more,have these women no fucking mirrors at
home.You'd think it was summer in Marbella we were,such
was the lack of concealing clothes,with more suet and lard than
you'd see in Denny's factory.The bouncer in the night-club told
me they had to change the lighting because the florescent
showing up the dentures on grab-a granny nights was putting
off customers.
We never did find out what it was exactly that Parker did or
was supposed to be doing on the ship but his white shirt with
the little bit of braid never got dirty and we knew he was on duty
because he only drank vodka to our pints the whole way over. I
had figured out that he had some stroke going with the bar-men
and the people in the not-so-dutyfree shop with the exchange
rate because he changed our Euros for Sterling one-for-one
instead of us only getting 66 pence each per Euro.
It so happened that some management from Irish Ferries were
on our trip and asked Parker to explain why the ratio of Sterling
to Euro was only 3% on the Dublin Ferries while on the Cork-
Swansea route the ratio was 16%.Without batting an eyelid
Parker told the accountant
"Transfer me down to the Cork Ferry and I'll sort them out for you."
Unemployed,semi-retired or mid-life crisis/crossroads?
About Me
- the anti-barney
- Contrary in morning, Sullen in afternoon, Impossible in evening
6 comments:
Yay, You're back. Good, I was starting to worry. Not much, mind, but some.
Slainte pet,have one yourself.
Irish Ferries... aah the memories that brings back... what a pack of cunts.
Lesson: when they've cancelled all ferries but 1 because of storms (actually, the friendly Irish Ferries staffer said, "the worst storm we've had since D-Day" if I remember me right), do not take the one crossing they still offer, even if they say it's perfectly safe... or even if it means you'll be staying the night in Wales...
Marbella, summer behind bars.
Fuck Liverpool.
"...bodies glistening with
sweat,nostrils flaring,manes swishing this way and that..."
Oh you are a one and no mistake mister Barney.
This Parker fellow sounds like a purser. That's what they do. Smart uniform, all the dodges, do fuck all. In the summer, Ray-ban aviators top off the deal. The number of shags they get is phenomenal, although if the crossing's short they're snookered.
See it was an Irish horse that won, AGAIN! Bloody Irish.
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