It was half past seven and myself and Mikey Ryan were above in the Arch Bar in Liberty Square, Thurles, about to order our last beer, before the 8:00pm curfew.
“Pat please, when you are ready, we’ll have two bottles of Corona”, said Mikey, “but hold back on the virus”.
“I’ll tell you this for a serious fact”, said Mikey, “while the Irish government are worried about that Dr Tony Holohan guy staging a medical coup presently, that same boyo knows what he is talking about”.
“Everyone should be forced to wear face masks alright, if that what your hinting at,” said I, “that practise can definitely save lives”.
“Last night”, Mikey lowered his voice to a whisper, “I took the girlfriend “Hot Hazel” in here for a drink. Sure you know Hot Hazel don’t you?” he queried.
“Not intimately”, said I, “but I ask you who would have thought that the phrase normally attributed to her, i.e “I wouldn’t touch her with a 6-foot pole” would have become the national health policy, here in Ireland; but there you go”.
“Well on the way in” continued Mikey, “didn’t I go passed the wife; she was over in the left hand corner, inside the door wasting more money on a girls feckin night out. Thankfully she didn’t recognise me. Wearing that mask, I tell you, definitely saved my life”.
Said I, “Talking of pandemics, didn’t I purchased a world map last Saturday in Eason’s book shop, in the Thurles Shopping Centre. I said to my Missus, when this pandemic is over let fate and PUP payments decide where we will go on holidays. Then I gave her one of my darts. Throw this said I and wherever it lands—that’s where I’m taking you”.
“Great idea”, said Mikey, “So where are ye going”.
“Turns out, we’re spending two weeks behind the fridge”, said I, “unless I let her throw another dart”.
“Let’s go before Pat starts shouting time”, said I. “Happy New Year to you.”.
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