Ahmed, the crap Muslim

Sitting on Ron’s on Sunday evening having our usual discussion of the week’s events. Stinking Pete was telling us why he voted YES for the Lisbon Treaty while Dave was intelligently and constructively countering his argument by sticking his tongue under his bottom lip, pushing it out and going ‘Mooooooonnnnngggg’.

We are a perspicacious bunch and no mistake. In the middle of this debate the door opened and in walked a fellow none of us had ever seen before. He was obviously a Muslim, what with his dark skin and his enormous beard and the fact he was wearing some kind of dress.

“Howya?!”, he smiled at Ron. “I’ll have a pint of Guinness and a double Jack Daniels”, he said before sitting down at the bar.

Ron gave him his drinks and we looked on, somewhat confused. We’d never had a Muslim in the bar before, mainly because they don’t drink. We carried on our conversation for a while and the lad at the bar ordered himself another round which he put back like a professional. Eventually curiosity got the better of Dirty Dave who wandered over, said hello then gave the beard a great tug.

“What are you doing?”, he said.

“Sorry, I just thought it was a fake beard”.

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, because you’re a Muslim and Muslims don’t drink so I figured you were a spoofer, like that bloke who pretends to be a taxi driver and films them as he takes them the wrong way”.

“I am a Muslim. I’m just crap at it”.

“What do you mean?”

“I find it very difficult to follow the tenets of my faith. I enjoy roast pork, I rarely get up and pray in the morning and fuck me I like a few pints. I figure that when people go to Muslim countries they have to play by the rules there so when I came to this country I thought I’d do exactly the same”.

“But you have the beard, that’s not crap”.

“Any old cunt can grow beard, like”.

“This is true, look at Twenty! Hahaha”.

So we invited him to sit with us and he got pissed and told us stories about his home land, far, far away where his father was a carpet salesman at a bazaar, his mother was downtrodden and his sister was stoned to death for talking to someone who was a Muslim but the wrong kind of Muslim (a bit like would happen here if your daughter was caught in conversation with someone from Leitrim). It was hilarious.

Old Jacob at the end of the bar wasn’t too pleased but he’s a grumpy cunt at the best of times.

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