Drink! Girls! Feck!

Be gosh, and indeed be gorrah, I am freshly returned from the MoleCats freedom shindig in the capital of the emerald isle Dublin. It was most ably organized by the Paulcano, and was a raucous affair to be sure. We flew out Saturday afternoon, from LBA, after a two and a bit hour delay, so we were all pretty fresh before we arrived. But let us skip to the chase. Was there any buffoonery worthy of "Le Maillott Jaune?" What do you think? One of Toms work buddies, christened Ravanelli because he had white hair, nearly came through unscathed, but whilst trying to force out one last Guinness fart on arrival back in Blighty, only succeeded in drawing mud, yet another "Munich" incident. Bakes threw a wobbler down Temple Bar, and threatened to send most off his travelling companions home in a body bag. There was Matt and his ambulance, which took pity on him as wandered the streets of Dublin non to the wise as where our digs were located. And of course the Helmet was on tour, and didn't disappoint. My good self, Palmer, Molecat, Busted, Lobon, Crespo, Carl (we were too drunk to think up a suitable nickname) , Helmet and Ravanelli took off to the Guinness storeroom for the tour. Of course we got a bit lairy, and began the "You Shut Up!" chant at each other. After several hours on the Razz we decided to meet up with the rest, who of course were in a different bar, and stone cold sober. Helmet burst through the door at the precise moment time stood still. Watches stopped, the song on the jukebox finished and a deathly hush fell over the Bleeding Horse pub. "Oooooooooooooooooooooooo Yyyyyyyyyyyou shutttttt Uuuuuppppp!!!!!!!!" bellowed the Helmet, who is one of the loudest MoFo's you could wish to meet. Everybody in the bar looked at him, as tumbleweed blew through the bar, and in the distance a church bell tolled. Not a smirk or chortle, just an embarrassing silence only broke when the bar tender called out "Next!" The proverbial coat was got and taxi called. But all were to usurped by Wilsdens answer to Krakatoa, the Paulcano. For reasons only known to himself, on the first night in Dublin, down Temple Bar, he spied a horse whilst waiting to get into a night club, and took offense to our four legged friend. Deciding that only course of action was to head butt our equine friend, he put his arms to his side, bowed his napper, and set off as fast as his little legs would carry him towards the the horse. Just as he was propelling himself towards top speed, the horse looked up, and engaged it's superior intelligence, side stepping the now flat out 'cano, who flew head first down the cobbled streets, ending up in a broken and bruised pile, to earn the honours for buffoon moment of the trip. Most folk collect beermats or pins on their trips abroad, but the 'cano loves to pick up scabs and scars instead.

What of Dublin itself? I never made it down to Temple Bar, the frist night because I had a bad experience on my last visit eight year ago, and on the second night because I made the fatal error of deciding to have ten minutes after an afternoon bender, and woke up three hours later with everybody gone, a fate that also befell the Helmet. "Old twats" I hear you say, but brother Lobon, the oldest geezer on tour made it all the way through. I highly recommend the Guinness tour, you pay a fifteen euro entrance, which gets you a free pint in the impressive Gravity bar, but on the sixth floor there is another bar that sold the cheapest Guinness I found all weekend, coming in at just over four euros. Of course the taxi driver on our way home told us a secret way to get pissed cheap. In the gravity bar they only serve complimentary pints, and most people who do the tour only have a couple of sips and leave it, which means for those of you with shallow pockets can hoover up all the leftover beers, getting arsed for free. I shall bear this in mind if I visit again, as with the exchange rate being what it is, it was working out about £4.50 a pint, nearer five quid down Temple Bar. Another thing to watch out for is the night clubs in Temple bar, which start sticking an extra euro on all drinks, every hour after midnight. Lobon got stung just shy of ten euros for a vodka and coke in Fitzsimmons. Well , in a nutshell, that's about it. I am sure I have forgotten to recall may things, I was pretty drunk most of the time, and if any one wants to comment on anything I have missed out, please feel free. If there is enough that I've missed out on, I will do a follow up posting on our jolly shindig. I have uploaded my photo's, which mainly consist of our Guinness odyssey, you can view by clicking here. Anybody else who has any photos, get them to me and I will add to the gallery, as I have none of Molecat in his frock. So what next? In a fortnight there is Leftys beer festival, and in December we are heading down to the Smoke to see the Bantams play the Bees. I will do a full rundown on Le Grande Buffoon later in the week, as there has been some definite movement in the top five.