The Missing Week-End Part Two

Longish post warning

Sam and I successfully evaded the booby-trapped step at the Russell Court's bar and strode in like we owned the place.'Cos we fucking well did.

FMC had selected a suitably lofty and regal perch from which to observe the chattering classes.She was busily defending our seats with style and aplomb and much arching of a precision munition eyebrow.Seriously lads..you'd want to be barking mad to displease this feline.

'Twas a day for meeting beauty and to tell the truth I was feeling a tad inadequate until a lackey appeared bearing drinks.Drink makes everything better.I should point out that the lackey was not a waiter.No.Waiters are known for their independence of spirit and dash.The wretch that shivered before us had neither of those qualities ('Twas rumoured he had once been a waiter but had been excommunicated for giving people their tips back and spreading that vile creed) and was roped to FMC through a telepathic link.The wretch was transfixed (not on me!) and Sure,who could blame him? This link had him appear at our table the instant rum levels fell below a certain level.

Stylish,elegant,effortless.The cat is cool and our table was not one to be trifled with.Had we been playing Charlie's Angels in three-a-side footy they would have bottled it and forfeited.

Multiple texts from Bock et al at the beach-head kept us appraised of enemy troop movements and it was decided that a move needed to be made....by the lackey..to bring more drink.Wahaaay.

Sadly FMC had a solo mission Out Wesht (liberating Galway from the Indians again) and it was left to the Hebridean and I to get completely lost.This was exactly 9 seconds after FMC gave us very concise and simple directions.OK I admit it.I didn't want to share Sam (my preeeccciousssssssh) with the other out patients.Some shouting at a cell phone ensued and soon we found Dublin's equivalent of the Mos Eisley Cantina.We fitted right in

Out of nowhere there appeared a curly haired satyr at my shoulder.'Twas Bock! Joy! and in short order we are introduced to Conan (this charming man) Eolai gan fadas but my ,what a beard.He does exactly what he says he will and I honour him for that.Medbh lovely,poised and splendid indeed.Her glorious crimson boots triggering a surprisingly vicous bout of shoe coveting and the lovely Mr.M (forbearance personified).It was like a qualifying round for the U.E.F.A. cup for blog-anoraks and I was happy dammit.I don't care who knows...I was happeeeeeeee.

In short order Bock's scar ( as opposed to Bock's Car which was the name of the B29 that dropped the second A-bomb) was inspected and groped then this noble man,this hero,this champion produced for me a cottage loaf!!! Were you in Mulligan's that night you might remember me? Yeah..I was the tranny with the loaf of bread bigger than her arse.True to form Bock led us all to a filthy,illegal kebab joint and food like substances were devoured ( I had extra hostility for the infidel with mine).A trip to the Worst Toilet In Scotland (Irish branch) completed the squalid magnificence.

Soon the matter of more drink arose and the Ojai Och Aye hatched a plan of Baldrickesque ( I say -esque 'cos it worked) cunning.

Hotel resident=24 hr booze!

A fine plan made finer by the very fine Gimme making the rendezvous.The static from The Meeting Of The Beards (his and Eolai's) went arcing off in all directions and it added nicely to the bending of the time-space continuum being caused by this critical mass of bloggers.Or maybe it was the jet-lag,drink and the I.E.D. kebab.Who knows? Who cares?

After a 3am decaff with Sam I finally collapse onto my bed about 12 hrs after landing at DUB.Half a nano-second later it was 10am and the text from Bock detonated in my skull like a hand grenade in a coffee can.

"Get Uuuuuppp!!!"

My one and only full day in Ireland had begun.