Blarney
One of my mates, Bless his memory, was from Dublin and told me this tale of his local.

The landlord of the said local was a large man with a huge beer-belly, a red face and a large red potato-like nose. And the broadest Dublin accent you’ve ever heard apparently. However this isn’t really necessary to the tale, just window dressing. One of the bloke’s enduring objects of hate were gypsies. They were not allowed to set foot in his pub on pain of rapid and painful ejection. One lunchtime session he had to pop out “on business” (read: See his girlfriend while his wife was in bed with a migraine) and he left a relatively new barman in charge.

On his return he cast his eyes around to check all was well and spotted an old chap who had been sitting quietly in the corner, drinking his Harp lager, reading his paper and bothering no-one. Up marches Edwin.

“Get out of my fucking pub now ye pikey bastard!”

“But I’m not a p….”

“Just fuck off now afore I stuff that pint up your arse, ye fucking Gypsy!!”

“But I’m not a gy…”

“Look, ye culchie (sp?), just get out. And a hint, if you want to pretend you can read hold yer paper the right way up. Cunt.”

The old chap decided it was better to leave and did so. The barman had by then managed to get a word in. Turns out the old bloke was a visitor to the area but not a traveller (he was over seeing his sister). The only reason he had the paper upside down was that he’d been reading the answers to the crossword.

As Baz would say, rafter.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Fri 6 Feb 2009, 13:05, 3 replies)

hahaha
click
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 13:08, closed)

*click*
for making me chuckle out loud and not at all for quoting me, honest :)
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 13:38, closed)

never mess with pikeys
just dont
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Tue 10 Feb 2009, 7:34, closed)