When he was younger he ran the family pub but left it to flirt briefly with the restaurant trade before returning to his true calling - pulling pints. And so he became know as the Re-publican.
A master of malapropism and maladroit with words generally, he has always been good for a giggle. On slow days [...]
They weren’t living together long when Pat’s wife-to-be began dropping the phrase, pitter-patter of little feet, into conversation. So off to Joe-the-dog he and I went and bought a 14-week-old puppy. A beautiful Golden Retriever bitch.
A name. She would need a name. We took to the high stool, leaving the puppy to explore the bar, [...]
I had my suspicions this wasn’t the first pub Peadar had visited today - he came through the door like a chicken with rubber legs. I buried my head in the newspaper. Not fast enough - he’d seen me and the free stool beside me.
· Practising reading upside down I see, Sneezy.
· Drunk again, Peadar?
· [...]
I don’t know much about Pharisees. Maybe they’re the folks that make the telescopes.
But as a stereotypical Irish male, I know all there is to know about Publicans. Stingy robbing bastards the lot of them[no citation needed]. The bastard that owns my local has rubber pockets in his jeans for robbing soup.
Down through the years [...]
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