and would go to a pub, (bar only, lounge with the wife) enter, rub his hands, give an auld wink to nobody in particular, put up a hand with one finger pointed, could be a busted finger from hurling, or one of those sausage roaster fingers, and say āa pint there please, of your best endevoursā. Sometimes well known bar fly roasters just need to slightly nod the head to the barman for a refill.
Back when they used to serve Fosters on draught, it would be called āa pint of Foster like a good manā.
Ever see the way certain roasters get when half decent looking women get into grabbing distanceā¦
He would invariably have this concoction when driving the jeep. Steering wheel and major in one hand and the milf, bread and ham resting in the middle console to be tended to by the free hand.
I met a lad I went to secondary school a few years back at a wedding. This lad was roaster to the core, not from farming stock but of an agricultural persuasion, born to drive tractors for local contractors and get paid a pittance cash in hand for his troubles. I often wonder if he ever had to move out of the home place how the fuck could get get a mortgage.
He went of to New Zealand for a year a while back and I was asking him how he got on to make small talk. He was working in a quarry driving a big lifting shovel for 12 hours a day in the middle of the bush and got digs in a house a retired couple owned in a place every bit as backward if not more than the place he was from. So he fitted right in.
He told me two things that stuck with me. The first was when I said to him fair play in going off for the year. He replied " I wasnāt too pushed about going but I was in the local pub the weekend before I left and I wonāt name names, but someone turned to me and said you wonāt last a week. I stayed the full year out of spite to that cunt"
The second one was when I was asking him what was the quarry like and what was the food like āMyself and my housemate had a right system, one week I would bring the bread and he would bring the ham, the following
week I would bring the ham and he would bring the breadā
Actually he was a gas cunt and never showed up one Monday morning for me.
Got a call around 11:30 asking me was I right to go do a bit. I said I was good to go at 7:30 to let him know I was annoyed. He says to me āsorry about that, the paw* wanted it doggy style this morningā
I knew a lad from East Clare who did the same thing. Loved tractors and fencing and pulling and dragging and fucked off to NZ doing sileage. He was saving a ball of money as well last I heard but could have thrown it all in over the counter.
Actually there is a third story from this fella at the wedding.
A few others at the table were discussing Dubai as they had both worked out there. My man had obviously stopped off in Dubai on his way out or back to New Zealand.
He interjected to say that he hated Dubai āSure twas wall to fucking wall pasta out there, nothing else to eatā
M assumption was that he didnāt get too far from the gate he was flying from.
Auld lad used love the Irish trad scene so encouraged* me to play an instrument. He used bring me out to this pub on Sat night where thereād be a trad session and Iād sit in. It was the type of establishment where every punter used to piss with their lad resting on the back of their hand with the other hand holding up the wall. The musicians got free drink as part of their payment, I was only about 10 so got free lucozade and crisps.
The āmain manā was an accordian player and ferocious roaster. Big hair, purple of face and big of hands. Iām convinced one of the authors of The Gruffalo must have been at one of the sessions. He dictated what tunes were played. Trying to hide his obvious alcoholism heād start off with a few handy jigs and hornpipes.
As the night wore on the call for pints would quicken as the tempo moved from jigs to full out reels. Those on whistles and flutes would begin to fade as they struggled to keep pace with the box player. The night invariably ended with the wife of the box player gave the nod for 2 volunteers to carry her husband to the car, exhausted through a combination of ale and box playing wizadry.
The pub burned down for insurance purposes. Iām sure the Nogra crew will know the pub in question.
I worked in the back office of a banks insurance division in the early ā90ās, and we had reps out in the road following up leads from the branches.
One of the lads was out with a pair of bachelor farmers in S E Leinster finalising the paperwork for a bond to investment. Two old boys were rotten to with money and not able to spend it.
The rep Has had called at 1 oāclock to the two old boys, and sure enough they are having the dinner. Only one of them is going atin the dinner. āAre you not going to eat your dinner Tommy?ā asked the rep? āOn begob I will once Paddy has eaten hisā. Then once Paddy finished his lamb chops he stood up took the teeth out, of rinsed them under the tap and gave them to Tommy who proceeded to ate the dinner in front of himā¦
