It’s safe to say I’m not the most intelligent genius walking this earth. I’m man enough to admit that, but I’m 100% certain that I’m not the only Irish man that has battled with himself to give up ‘the drink’ on one or two occasions…
Well, after this particular incident I was very close to giving it up.
One night I was out in Blanchardstown with the other half and the craic was ninety. I’d an awful feed of porter and was baloobas as I staggered home to the girlfriend’s house. Emma made the toasties, we talked shite for an hour and hit the hay; a routine enough night out. I woke up the next morning bolloxed and got the usual hangover first thoughts,
“Ahh no I’m dying, the pure hassle of this for the day; poxy drink!”
I then dragged myself out of the bed had a quick piddle and headed down to the kitchen where Emma’s mother was frying the rashers.
I walked into the kitchen where Emma, her sister and her parents were sitting. As soon as I entered the room the conversation stopped. The four of them looked at me and began to snigger. Oh Fuck, what’d I done now?
Finally Emma’s sister piped up and broke the silence.
“I tell ya, I’m glad it wasn’t my bed you got into!”
“Whaaaa??” I shouted, in shock.
They all burst out laughing. “What the fack is going on here??? I thought to myself.
“Ehh do you not remember last night!!?” says Emma, with a big grin on her face.
“Awe sweet Jesus what did I do?” I knew well that with a bellyful of porter I was capable of anything.
“You were sleep walking and tried to get into bed beside my ma and da!!”
“WHATTT??” I say’s, clearly praying the ground would gobble me up.
“Yea!” says Emma’s mother.
“I woke up in the middle of the night and you were sitting at the end of our bed in your boxers, half asleep.”
Then her father says, “yea and I asked you were you ok and you replied ‘ah yea not too bad thanks’ and you fell back asleep”.
“Holy fucking jaysus,” I say’s under my breath. “God I’m so sorry, I must have been sleep walking!”
Then Emma comes out with, “Yea mam had to guide you back into the spare room, you were trying to sing a song aswell.”
Now, I was only going out with Emma about 6 months at the time, so you can only imagine how unnaturally awkward this situation was. So I sat there nibbling on the toast trying to digest this disaster of a situation; wishing the bus home was in 5 minutes and not 2 hours. I felt I had to gather my thoughts so I said I was “just going to the toilet for a minute”. I went upstairs sat on the jacks and thought to myself, “seriously, what kind of a fucking egit are you Rory!!?”
Then my worse fear was released. I looked down below and didn’t I have them cheap fecking aul Penny’s boxers on me; the ones with the stupid buttons that never stay shut. Any honest man will tell you that whether you like it or not, your wee solider always comes out to say hello when you have them useless boxers on. “This is an absolute disaster,” I thought. So here I was sitting on the toilet bowl in a complete state of fear with the family below probably advising Emma that I’m not well in the head and to leave me well enough in Ashbourne. I pulled myself together headed back down stairs while contemplating running out the door, walked back into the kitchen, sat down at the dinner table and just tried to ignore what had just happened.
“Well so what yis reckon, will the rain stay off for the match in croker later!!?” I say’s. As expected I didn’t get much of reply. Then came the final nail in the coffin. Out of nowhere Emma’s mother shouts over to me in a sneering voice,
“Do you want the last sausage Rory!!?” (Me knowing well there were no sausages in the pan, just Galtee’s finest rashers and a few bits of white pudding!)
“Sorry what was that Mary!?”
They all just burst out laughing.
Lovely hurling, so yet again the cheap useless Penny’s boxers obviously had let me down, so I just had to sit there sup on my tae and take any slagging that was coming my way….
That’s certainly one time I was very close to knocking the beer on the head!!