The Sober Pubs Of Christmas


Last night I went on a pubcrawl, not something I normally do given that I am a permanent sober head. More to the point I went along for a "Twelve Pubs of Christmas" crawl with some of the lads.

Now, normally, these things are started at mid day and go for twelve hours or more. Giving a person enough time to get around all pubs and possibly even manage to survive. Me and my mates? Well we are idiots it would seem and tried to achieve the goal in just under four hours.

We did not do that great.

We did manage about six pubs in total, a pub only counting if you managed to have a drink in it. All in all? A flop of a night event wise, but a night of great craic.

One stupid rule (maybe, depends how you look at it) that was brought in was you could not order the same drink twice. Which meant each pub had a different round to be order. You'd be surprised at how many non-alcoholic options there actually is in Ireland. My first experience with Club Lemon was refreshingly strange to say the least.

Of course when we hit the Czech bar and the lads decided to start chanting "Budevecker" like a bunch of drunken Oompa Loompas you knew the night was entering crazy town. Hilarious fun for all.

Sadly the night was not with a small problem. Namely some fucking wanker that drove into my car in the carpark.

I only noticed the damage this morning because of how I had approached the car last night to get home. The car was now carrying a lovely big dent in the driver side panel by the headlight, which luckily wasn't damaged at all or I'd only have one light for the driving at Christmas, and some lovely new blue paint were the other car had clearly scraped against the body of my car. Fucking wanker bastard is all I can say. I am sending out many thoughts of bad karma aimed at this person in the home the universe will ass rape them.

That's one thing I hate about accidents. When somebody damages a car and just drives off. I saw it happen once in Newry, a car drove three times into another car before giving up on parking beside them, and leaving the poor owner to pick up the cost of the repairs.

But Jester is a bastard too. I went into the carpark today, got the number for the supervisor, and shall be calling him to check back the tape (total recall being handy here as it means I can give him exact time and location of my car) to see if he can get the plate of the car. Fingers crossed I can, so I can rightly screw the bollix.

Merry fucking Christmas, right?

Good news is that I am finished for the holidays on Thursday for a few days. Can't wait, it's been too long.


Tags: rant

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