The Police
Sitting in my local pub late one night enjoying the landlord's flexible idea of what constitutes his licencing hours, a bunch of drunk blokes in raincoats burst in. Requesting to be served, one shouted at the barman "It's alright - we're not coppers!"
They were spitting images of Lt. Columbo to a man. The barman laughed them out of the pub.
( , Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:12)
Sitting in my local pub late one night enjoying the landlord's flexible idea of what constitutes his licencing hours, a bunch of drunk blokes in raincoats burst in. Requesting to be served, one shouted at the barman "It's alright - we're not coppers!"
They were spitting images of Lt. Columbo to a man. The barman laughed them out of the pub.
( , Thu 22 Sep 2005, 10:12)
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Kicked out of a street by Dublin Coppers
In Dublin one night, while falling up the road home after a jolly evening out with some chums, about 5 of us decided it would be hilarious if we linked arms, and skipped heavily along, screaming "la la-la, la-la" over and over. Eventually, we collapsed to the floor, on Grafton Street, screeching with laughter. We look up, and see a copper staring down at us. We looked back at him, good naturedly, waiting for the inevitable "had a few drinks, have we?" or the " having fun, lads?" trademark copper quip that would precede us agreeing to get up and stop messing about. But no. The first thing the cop says is a stark "Fuck off out of Grafton Street."
Not a "hello", not a "what are you playing at", no foreplay, no messing around. We stared at him. I said "Eh?"
And he said again "Get the fuck off of Grafton Street." We all stopped laughing, quietly got up, and got the fuck out of Grafton Street. He actually kicked us out of a street. Humourless cunt. If we'd been English wankers on a stag night, I'd have understood it. But we were Irish. We could have argued our case, but he'd probably have shot us in the head, and raped our mums.
( , Sun 25 Sep 2005, 1:17, Reply)
In Dublin one night, while falling up the road home after a jolly evening out with some chums, about 5 of us decided it would be hilarious if we linked arms, and skipped heavily along, screaming "la la-la, la-la" over and over. Eventually, we collapsed to the floor, on Grafton Street, screeching with laughter. We look up, and see a copper staring down at us. We looked back at him, good naturedly, waiting for the inevitable "had a few drinks, have we?" or the " having fun, lads?" trademark copper quip that would precede us agreeing to get up and stop messing about. But no. The first thing the cop says is a stark "Fuck off out of Grafton Street."
Not a "hello", not a "what are you playing at", no foreplay, no messing around. We stared at him. I said "Eh?"
And he said again "Get the fuck off of Grafton Street." We all stopped laughing, quietly got up, and got the fuck out of Grafton Street. He actually kicked us out of a street. Humourless cunt. If we'd been English wankers on a stag night, I'd have understood it. But we were Irish. We could have argued our case, but he'd probably have shot us in the head, and raped our mums.
( , Sun 25 Sep 2005, 1:17, Reply)
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