Monthly Archives: October 2006

Was over the other side of town on Saturday night with Jimmy the Bollix and after our work was done we decided to stop in at a local hostelry for some light refreshments.

It was a busy enough bar and not too many seats. There was one table, a nice table which would have seated 5 or 6, free apart from one bloke sitting there.

“Here, we’ll go over there and sit down beside that bloke. Look his pint is almost gone and once we’re sitting he’ll bugger off.”

I had a look at the bloke. He looked sort of like Rick Moranis from Ghostbusters crossed with Gene Wilder. He looked back at me. I could feel him undress me, flay all my skin off and feast on my organs while listening to some classical opera with his eyes.

“No fucking way am I going anywhere near that cunt, Jimmy. He’s not right.”

“Ahh, stop being such a fucking fanny, Twenty.”

“Fuck off, Jimmy. I’m not going to sit beside him or even near him.”

We stood at the bar for a couple of minutes and then the strange bloke got up and headed towards the door. Jimmy was over like a shot with the two pints and he beckoned me over.

I went over, sat down, rubbed my eyes and Jimmy was no longer there but the fucking mad man was. He’d come back.

“Hello”, he said in a German accent. I think he probably was German but he might just have been mad enough to talk in a German accent.

“Er, hello”, I said thinking of a hundred ways to kill Jimmy, the cunt who ran off as soon as yer man came back.

“I very much to talk to ze people who vill entertain me!”, said the lunatic.

“Oh, very good”, said I looking anxiously around me.

“Yes, I vas going into town to O’Sullivan’s vich is my favourite pub but I missed ze bus and I am soooo laaaaazy I need zat someone pushes me out ze door”, he grinned maniacally.

“Well, there’s plenty more buses at this hour”, I said hoping this would be the push he needed to fuck off and get one.

“Yes, ze buses run until twenty-sree sirty and zen zere are ze nightbuses. I like ze nightbuses. Zey all run on time.”

“Er..yeah.”

He sat there smiling at me. I could tell that he was thinking of how he was going to sauté my brain. Then I saw Jimmy coming back so I grabbed the pints and left him at the table.

“I have to go talk to my friend now”, I said and made haste to the other side of the bar where there was a ledge. I called Jimmy many names, much to the amusement of a group of lads sitting at a table.

The crazy bloke was then talking to one of the lounge boys, who he saw like one of those apes with a big red arse that he could rape before he smothered it with a cushion with a floral pattern on it, and then he came over.

“I am sorry”, he said, “but did you sink you vere taking my place?”

“No, no. Not at all but please excuse us we have important business to discuss.”

“Please, sank you. I vill speak wis you anoser time.”

He went away then and after 5 minutes he left the pub and we took the table he’d been at. Now, Jimmy thought I was overreacting to the loon.

“He’s only a person who was talking to you”, he said.

He doesn’t understand though. Genuinely mad people make me very uncomfortable and this bloke was genuinely mad. He might have looked like a bit of a special needs eccentric but I bet he lives in a house with a basement and in the basement there are corpses and he tells people to rub the lotion on its skin and so forth.

Some mad people are funny because they do funny things like Streaking Steven who would, every couple of months, tear around Superquinn in the nip until the cops came and brought him home.

This one wasn’t a funny mad person. He was a mad mad person. I had a lucky escape folks and don’t let anyone tell you any different.