Idlebones

Beer, Band and James Flippin’ Bond.

One of those nights, where you go out expecting a quiet pint, and come home hours later having had a memorable one. I went down to Mcphails to watch the Oliver Brothers, who normaly play on a Monday night, and got a great performance from the guys on the verge of bringing out their first album. Shades of Lynyrd Skynyrd/Thin Lizzy/god knows what. Fantastic guitar licks smoothed by excellant bass played by an suberb, if somewhat out of place, Paul Simon tee shirt, with perfect, energetic drums envied by every would-be skin thumper in the place. Their version of Peter Greens “Oh Well” did enough to soften the older crowd, without killing the rest of us off with a perfect Chilli Peppers set and a few of their own numbers that brought the house down. I only went down for a pint and ended up out for the night. Your bad news, boys.
I have to thank the guy I met in the nightclub for restoring my faith in idiot stereotypes though. I went down for last drinks with two friends for nothing more then a chat and a pint and was treated to a caberet that was the closest thing to a one man human circus that I have ever met. My friends girlfriend attracts some attention, but his was nothing short of a military manouever. Imagine (Jesus, please!) a tall skinny white guy in combats with darting eyes, deadpan face, crewcut hair and fidgeting hands that never emerged from suspiciously deep pockets and you’ve almost got him. My friend and I moved in to rescue his girlfriend, and while they escaped, I was unfortunetly sucked into this guys tracktor beam. The interragation went something like this:
Crewcut: What are you doing here!?
Me: pardon?
Crewcut: Where are you from?!
Me: Well, Here!
Crewcut: No, where, are, you, from!!?
Me: Er, Here, Drogheda. Why? What, are you with customs?
Crewcut: Where do you work?
Me: Em, in Dublin.
Crewcut: What do you do?
Me: Area Manager, erm…, and stuff. Why? What do you do?
Crewcut: Can’t tell you
Me: Why not?
Crewcut: Just can’t….. Secret.
Me: Oh, right. Barman then?
Crewcut: Yes……..and no.
Me: Okay, so your a cop?
Crewcut: Maybe
Me: Soldier?
Crewcut: Close
Me: Ooooh. Special forces thingy?
Crewcut: Could be
Me: God, really, Special forces!?
Crewcut: Yeah (Fidgets with trouser pockets). Been in, abroad, you know? Top secret.
Me: Of Course. Good god. The country would never stand a chance if your caught and tortured, would it?. And please, stop doing that with your hands!!