Who? Joe Canning
Where? Fat Freddies Galway.
When? Just there now.
After two to three pints of porter in Murphys we decided to head home with pizza after a long day in limerick, myself herself the brother and the oul fella.
I got lost and located them heading out of Freddies with a pile of pizzas.
Jaysus, says the Bro, you'll never guess who you've just missed.
Who? Says I
Joe Canning, says the Bro.
I had a quick internal debate. I knew deep down that the poor lad was wanting a bit of peace and quiet, but out came my inner roaster and in I stalked, slightly purple from the drink, and directly over to the table, arm already extended from the door.
A youngish looking hipstery lad saw me lumbering in the general direction, and looked slightly anxiously at me. He may, in fact, have been on the panel himself, but I had my bead on Joe and was not for turning.
Joe obviously wanted this like herpes, and slightly withdrew.
Undeterred, I stuck my rigid arm into his face.
"besht of luck Sunday lad"
As Joe decided discretion was the better part of valour, and reluctantly held out his hand for a shaking, I gave him a hearty "injoy the day laaad", held his hand for longer than I should, turned on heel, and strode out like a butcher reaching for a green flag on sky TV in croke Park.
Joe was thin, fit and neither eating nor drinking.
I felt as soiled and ashamed as @ChocolateMice discarding his underpants in the bin in the regional.
Final impressions, Joe Canning is a gent. I should be wearing farah slacks from birth til death. I am a card carrying redneck.