Ah, Michael - the woes with which we are inflicted. I hope you manage to
persuade them you are entirely innocent.
Reminds me of a little incident outside a remote pub in Ireland many years
ago. A chum and I had been in it for most of the day, sampling the Guinness
and Poteen and as the shadows lengthened, were a little the worse for wear.
As we emerged into the daylight having argued that friend was more sober
than me and therefore capable of driving down the middle of the road, a
member of the Garda emerged from behind a tree where he'd been having a
leak. Somewhat sobered at the sight of his presence as he approached us, he
called out, "hallo there lads. Would ye both be just after having had a
drink or two?"
Chris, concerned that he held the car keys and stank like a Dublin Brewery,
meant to say "Good afternoon, Constable." It actually came out as "Good
afterable, Consternoon."
We were both that bad.
This greeting stopped the guy in his tracks
"Ah, so it is," he said. "Jasus, even the Germans are driving cars on b****y
Brit plates. I hope you enjoy your holiday. You drive gently now!"
If only he knew.
Chris' surname was Cromwell (not a descendant of Oliver) and we weren't too
far from a certain town called Drogheda.
Jonmac
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