  |
 |
 |
 |
  |
  |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
Trainspotters
Pub Golf 2004
I sold out to popular demand and reduced pub golf from 18 to 12 holes. A little piece of me died lads, a little piece… now if we can only kill off about 3 more stone… we're good to go!
And so it started. I was already reeling from the fact that my beloved game had been raped of 6 holes turning it into a measly 12 holes. Now I'll be the first to admit that I didn't do very well this year and I haven't done very well in the past but any fucker who wants to have a go must have at least played in every pub golf outing and definitely finished above me. But I conceeded and 12 holes it was. T: We'll meet
at 5 in Fagins. One can only really imagine the look on Dan's face when he walked into Fagins to find he was on his own! (Phone rings) - Answered to a pair of quite irate Shanahans - "Where the FUCK… are you Donoghue?" With the finger well and truly removed, the sack emptied and the belly full… Bhi me reidh!!! - My Irish is shit and I don't know if that's right - as bearla - I was ready! Well nearly ready… I couldn't find the guzzlers, nor could I find the disgrace hat. With panic setting in, but kind of smiling inside thinking about snuffy going absolutely "chicken oriental" below in fagins, I continued my search, which didn't exactlt turn up trumps cause I didn't find fuck all - BUT I did manage to find the best newcomer challenge of all time! Sure didn't I
suddenly twig, What can I say I'm gifted! So I found a wig basically, and a sweat band that fits around the fattest of heads. Had to pick Biggane up from Fagins to drive him down to collect the disgrace hat. I was surprised the Shanahans weren't waiting outside the bar to drag me out and paste me around the place! Eventually got into Fagins to find my fellow gladiators: Snuffy (looking
brilliantly white) And there was the "Division 2" team, Donal and Cormac. Don't know what the division 2 shit was about. They both gave excuses, each one as piss poor as the others, and then both proceeded to drink pretty much the same amount as everyone else, changing a few drinks! Crazy really, when it has to be considered that neither has ever contested the actual event!!! Lots of shit talked in Fagins before we got started. Everyone took a piss before we set off on what was looking like it was going to be the end of pub golf due to the lack of interest. But was I wrong! Snuffy went into the horsebox to… empty the lunchbox - orally! Not a great sound or smell for that matter, nearly put myself and Liam off our pisses. Anyway we emerged from the toilets new men. Ready for action. We split up into 2 teams. Team Large Penis and… Team Small Balls The first hole was a pint of beer… but which beer. Budweiser was the choice of most, even Biggane who thinks it tastes like piss. There was some serious serious staring at the pints before I think it was Snuffy who started us off. Biggane's controversial technique was witnessed for the first time, it was pretty much left off on the first go. ++++++ One major talking point from the first pub was Pearse not downing it in one. He did it in 2. Shocking but there was a conspiracy theory that he did not want to wear the wig. Sounds like it could be true but who knows! The Man with the scores Georgie Doors… or something that sounds like doors… grown man in kids pyjamas!!! He's in Little Britain… anyway: Snuffy - 1
I thought this was actually a different bar when I was plotting out the course, however I was pleasantly surprised when I remembered where it was once the pizzeria where a young buck called Trevor O'Donoghue began piling on the pounds that now lie well below other… types of food I suppose! Vodka + Red Bull - piece of piss I thought to myself, not really the case unfortuantely. And this year it wasn't a rogue ice cube that nearly cost me a shot, no. I nearly gawked! It was too fucking hot or something. Got it down anyway. Your man was delighted to see us coming in, but it was the pub that we forgot to announce our arrival… by roaring abuse at a "mop-headed headbanded chimp". Nothing unusual to report here really, everyone dispatched them in one, myself included, and off we headed. Or did we… "Where next? I don't actually remember was it getting the shit kicked out of us or was it that its an old mans bar anyway look… fucking long story short - Half Barrel next. Snuffy - 1
Really missing John Shanahans… we got over it quickly enough by roaring shite at Mike while he went in… reversed out before he went in… begged us to follow him and "not do the bollox" (like that'll ever happen)… and then walked in. After what we imagine to have been an embarrassing stint standing like 1 o'clock half struck in front of 6 starngers with a wig on his head that made him look a little David Hasselhoffy if I might be so bold!!! Sweatband to complete the night rider look! Fair Fucks to Pearse - bought a new pair of socks for pub golf this year and was the first man to remember that all pants should be tucked into socks - new or old, matching or not! Fair fucks Pearse boy. Looking at the scoresheet - I see that I manged one solitary pint of fluid in 4 strokes - bollox I thought to myself… until I remembered the controversy of the Half Barrel - HALF BARREL GATE!!! The whole Biggane drinking technique was brought into the light here, I've already addressed what I think about the whole thing and won't let Mark Aloishius Biggane make a "political football" over my judgements on the day in question! Biggane, the curly tosser, was at it again. It wasn't enough he was giving me a fucking headache over whether his technique was kosher or not. The fucker had to leave liquid at the bottom of the glass. Well sweet divine holy Jesus, if the shit didn't hit the fan. "Sweet baby Jesus and the orphans" I said to my comrades, "He's at it again". As chairman, I took it upon myself to catapult myself into the middle of proceedings, which were getting quite heated between 2 or 3 competitors. Obviously these buffoons were without the "people skills" of myself necessary to "diffuse" such situations (a skill, I might add, that I learned while expertly "deflecting calls" for a living during a year in HQ in Liverpool!) I did what I do best. Take the problem to the people. A problem shared is a problem halved - therefore the more people I tell, the less I will actually have to do to solve it! I let the bar keep make the final decision as speculation was rife throughout the 6 other people in the bar, as to who was in fact correct. Victory - the bar keep makes the sensible choice and says that there is clearly… another drink left in that glass. With Biggane off my tits I was free to get back to my pint and nurse my way to an easy enough 2. Until… Some "division 2" (If you don't fucking mind) "player", decided to strap on a pair of balls and say that the time was up and that I, yes I, the chairman of proceedings, was in breach of the time limit! "Was the clock stopped for the debate", I argued Then… it happened… every fucking one of them turned on me. A fucking 4!!! Democracy at its worst… I've handed in my notice to Ogra Fianna Fail… because first of all, as a delegate, I can honestly say that I have never actually done anything for the party, which they seem to be cool with so kudos Fianna Fail (ohhh, I can really see biggane lighting up a big DOOFER and really going for it on the "poli-tricks" after this!!!) and secondly I ain't so "og" anymore. So there. I've packed it in. Sorry to break it to ye like this Fianna Fail, but lets be honest, we all saw it coming. Worst of all… this was actually a piss pub and I missed my piss over all that shit! Just remembered that for some reason I made us all stand outside the castle tavern on the way back down for a team photo. Snuffy - 1
Kearneys certainly is a slightly more rural atmosphere for a bar that I think most of us are used to. With that lovely smell of… shit wafting around the place, no doubt off the punters who stare at you like you're a fucking snack box at 4am when you walk in the door! This was the one bar where what was a joyous feeling of knowing that Chimp would be facing public embarrassment at walking into a pub in his new "hasselhoffed" doo… was replaced by a genuine concern that he could be on the verge of loosing his anal virginity.
I said to Snuffy that he did know that we should be making him wear the wig in alternate bars as they were both tied in the lead. He did not reply, I, knowing that his smirk said more then words ever could, needless to say I did not follow that particular line of questioning. I did however remember my entitlement as Chairman… the newcomer rule. Yes I get to make some unlucky punter who has saddled up with us for the first time to do whatever I tell him he has to do. It was then I remembered that I had an "I (heart) NY" thong in my back pocket. Chimp… I proceeded to explain the newcomer rule. We did however think that it wouldn't really be… in our best interests shall we say, to make him put it on in this particular… joint! Our fun would have to wait. Dispatched by all in 1, even myself and we were off, back to civilisation!!! Snuffy - 1
"Not exactly Tom Cruise in Cocktail this fella is he… (holding up what had been offered to us in place of baby guinnesses) this looks like someone puked in the glass… more than likely after some fucking concoction this lad gave them!" - think Liam said something along these lines. Not much to tell from here really, in and out, no fucking about. Well some fucking about, it was a piss pub I recall and we took a team photo. All down the hatch in one. Snuffy - 1
Snuffy eventually conceded as Horan went for a score check he decided that he shouldn't be the only one wearing the wig… snuffy should too. Fine said Dan… knowing all too well, that Chimp would be taking it back for Toms. This was always going to be a tricky hole. Firstly, they are very fizzy which is quite difficult on the palate. Secondly, they were fucking freezing… FREEEEEEZING!!! So what's the best thing to do… wait? Fuck this waiting lark, look - there's a gas heater over there we'll fuck the pints up on top of it, 5 minutes later, Roberts your fathers brother! Usual suspects downing them in 1, padraig slipped for a 2, I held my head up high on a 2, but… Donal was really starting to enjoy his newly developed testicles and Liam was this time feeling the brunt of it - harshly judged to have over stepped the time limit and was at this point forced to take the disgrace hat which had kept my head warm for the last 6 pubs. Well done Liam, if ever there was a fat head to replace my own, 'twas your own! Snuffy - 1
Micheal Horan… or should I say… Micheal Chimp El Chimp Shimp El Shrimp Gimp Paddy Thomas Ketchup Horan was less than pleased to hear that he would be finishing his pub golf trail… "avec thong"! To be honest… he didn't seem to mind as much as he did 2 holes earlier, despite the fact that he would be wearing it into the pub where we do the majority of our boozing. The big cheer in was given a little more gusto this time around as a "mop-headed headbanded spuerman-styled thonged chimp" entered the busy bar. All did this with little trouble, even myself. However… with Donal's new testicles nearly as big as himself… Padraig was again "harshly judged" to have 2 stroked! After leaving a little liquid in the bottom of the glass. Snuffy - 1
What can I say really… small bit of confusion over was it a tequila slammer or just a straight tequila. Fair enough it said tequila on the scoresheet but I meant slammers as we do every year. Someone had already downed a straight and didn't really care for the taste… as you can imagine he was less than impressed when he was told that he might have to redo it with a dash of white thrown in! All 1's anyway. Snuffy - 1
Are you going for a pint? - I rather cut my fucking tongue off and throw it at you than drink that shite, you nordy cunt! As my 4 suggests… not too fond of the Smithwicks.
But this being said myself and Padraig were the only 2 who didn't down them. And for me… the absolute highlight of pub golf came in this hole. Myself and Liam had been see-sawing throughout the last number of holes because lets face it… no-one wants to come last. Liam, I reckon, didn't like it. However… that didn't stop him… oh no. Liam was not going to be defeated… not by O'Donoghue, he didn't say that… but I could see it in his eyes… I'm not losing to Donoghue. And as I watched his eyes, those determined eyes… and I watched the smithwicks depleting… the highlight of pub golf came. Liam with only a quarter of a pint left in the glass, and looking at his first hole in one on a par 3, he cried. Maybe only a solitary tear rolling down his cheek as polished off a pint of shite… but he cried. He cried. A grown man. Crying over pub golf. This is what pub golf means… surely this is what it is all about. 7 men… 7 gladiators didn't know it when we teamed up in Fagin's at 7… but we would go on an epic journey. A journey of alcohol, of pints… of stupid headgear and people looking at you like you're retarded. A journey a grown men wearing ladies under garments over jeans. Yes… granted, a fairly fucked up journey, but a fucking journey all the same. And what looked like it was going to be the death of pub golf due to lack of interest… it turned into what many people, including myself, are calling the best pub golf yet. Oh sure, there was the Monday morning quarterbacks - "Oh oh oh, I would have played if I knew it was only 12 hol…" - "AH GO WAY AND FUCK YOURSELF", we replied to these people. Mick later told me that as we left a man walking in the door said to him: "Worse than fucking knackers ha… them fucking wren boys!" To which Mick agreed… "I know… bastards. Bastards." Snuffy - 1
Hey Bobby, what's the french for 7 lads pissed out of their fucking tree's walking into your bar looking for shots? I think Bad Bob's was a piss pub, I think that because I have a photo I took of myself taking a shit in there. I also have a photo of chimp doing what chimp does best… hanging of the cage door out the back making monkey noises in a big wig, headband and a thong. Pearse joined him. Don't remember much else about Bobby's really except that these shots were dispatched with a certain va-va-voom and we were off, out the door. Snuffy - 1
All done in one's, mind is a bit gone as to what happened here. Snuffy - 1
You'll notice it says we finished in the snug. Ironically we never did end up in the snug. Getting lazy in Shoemakers we decided here's as good as anywhere to finish it. And finish we did… n't. Because the fucking thing was a draw. Now I decided the best way to finish it would be the same as the last time we had a tie. There were suggestions of a bare-knuckle boxing match, monkey knife fights, bowls, even a dance-off. "Will you
fuck off I said? How do you know who wins a dance off?" Snuffy - 1
Some people look forward to a good dance. Some people would have been able to just accept, "fine… I have to dance better than your man in front of my peers and the gathered masses… piece of piss". You'd think it'd be fairly straightforward… oh no. OH NO… Mind games kicked off! Chimp decided to go psychological on snuffys ass. I'll pretend I can barely walk… then wipe the floor with him John Travolta style. Snuffy decided… so he's pretending to b pissed… hmmmmm, lets call his bluff. I'm gonna get shit-faced. Upside-down. Inside-out. Twisted. Rat-arsed. Pissed. Inebriated. Fan-ghitered. Bamboozled. Basically… right I'll do it, 18 holes! That'll soften his fucking cough!
Par - 26 The Dance-Off I don't remember anything about the dance-off except that at the time I felt Snuffy won. We had a vote and it turned out snuffy won with the deciding vote coming from… and he'll kill me for saying this… Padraig.
|
|
|||
| - | ||||
 |
Castleisland Trainspotters
|
|| Site Map || || |
 |
|