In Ron’s
Posted on | July 14, 2008 | 79 Comments
As you walk into Ron’s the semi-retangular bar is in front of you, a tattered Dublin 1977 GAA poster, signed by Ron’s great-nephew Anton O’Toole, barely clinging to the wall these days. There are some round tables with wooden chairs and a snug over to the right hand side which is usually occupied by by old Charlie who sips his pints, reads the papers or a book and pines for his old dog. The bar has a red patterned carpet which has great black stains on it from when the fabric was soiled, burnt, scorched, stained or otherwise damaged. It is not the brightest bar you’ve ever seen.
The right hand side of the bar, as you look at it, is where Paddy and Larry sit drinking their Guinness with Jameson chasers. You know, they’ve been there as long as I’ve been coming to Ron’s. They’re part of the furniture almost. You don’t pay much attention to them until one of them isn’t there for some reason then it’s like something vital is missing from the room. Up on the wall just to the right of them is the TV which is only on during football matches and every evening for the 6 o’clock news on RTE 1.
Ron lives behind the bar, there’s a door to his ‘office’ through which you can go to the fully enclosed back yard where things have happened down the years that don’t bear repeating. Well, not unless it’s over a pint or two and we’re reminiscing. Not for Ron the fancy arrangement of bottles behind him. It’s basic but he has what we need. Vodka, Rum, Gin, Whiskey, a grappa for Lucky and other stuff is kept underneath in a cupboard that only he has the key for. There is no shiny array of taps. Just, from left to right, Guinness, Smithwicks, Heineken and his one nod to the modern era, a Czech lager that we practically begged him to get in. He says Czechs make good beer but he wouldn’t get in any other foreign brands, especially not from Eastern Europe. ‘How can you trust them after all they did?’, he says and we nod in agreement. It’s his bar, isn’t it?
The bar is hard wood, scarred and scratched and worn like a pair of tramp’s shoes but somehow he manages to get a shine off it every day. The glasses are as you would expect. Pint pots, no fancy designer tankards, slim jims for the spirits, smaller wider ones for the whiskey and some shot glasses which are only used whenever Ron deems it appropriate. After the Folkapalooza adventure he got them out but ask him for a Jaegerbomber and he’ll look at you like you asked him to suck your shit covered cock.
Splodge sits facing the Guinness tap, Lucky to his left. Stinking Pete and Dirty Dave take the next two places which takes you to the corner of the bar. Jimmy sits the other side of the corner and I next to him. Beside me on the bar is an ashtray and an old style money box which claims to be collecting for the Whitefather Missions in Africa. As far as I know nobody from the Whitefathers has ever come into Ron’s. I have no idea how much money is actually in it. From my seat I can see pretty much everything, the front door, the tables which, night after night, remain unused as Ron’s doesn’t seem to generate, or welcome, new custom.
Behind me, and slightly to the right, are the toilets. A trough style urinal for the pissing and two cubicles which are fully enclosed as Ron appreciates his customers, if they want to move their bowels, don’t want to have to worry about being overheard or people looking at their underpants as they wait patiently by their ankles during business time. There’s a heavy ceramic sink, a bar of Imperial Leather on a soap dish, and pull down towels to dry your hands. Ron doesn’t believe in hand dryers, he says they’re too noisy.
I drink in Ron’s most nights. We sit and we talk and we drink pints and we argue and fight and make jokes and tell stories and smoke and so much that’s happened in our lives has taken place here it’s almost like home. My stool has my shape, the bar slightly dented from where I like to sit with my knee pressed against it, and I wonder sometimes how much of my life I’ve spent on this stool.
Sometimes I wonder how much longer I’m going to spend on it.
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79 Responses to “In Ron’s”
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July 14th, 2008 @ 2:39 am
What sort of daiquiris are available, 20?
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:41 am
Would the Czech beer be Budějovický by any chance?
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:57 am
A FINE PRODUCTIVE LIFE, SO YE HAVE!
July 14th, 2008 @ 3:04 am
Does he still do ” Gay night ” ?
July 14th, 2008 @ 3:15 am
Sitting on a stool outside a public lavatory, and wondering how much longer.
Who can say they haven’t been there?
July 14th, 2008 @ 3:46 am
MB – I usually leave my stools IN the lavatory, but each to their own…
July 14th, 2008 @ 8:10 am
I’m guessing the Czech beer is Staropramen , I’d love to have eleven pints of stout and three or four Jamesons in Rons and go to my Ma’s house with a fresh cod ‘wan an wan’ and eat about 4 chip samwiches , alas the poor Ma is in the place where Mas go after a hard life, no more breakfast in bed for this boy , but it’s a favourite fantasy.
July 14th, 2008 @ 8:22 am
What sort of daiquiris are available, 20?
None. Ron makes a fine mojito though and the Czech lager is Staropramen.
July 14th, 2008 @ 8:55 am
This is very sentimental, Twenty. Are you considering retirement, by any chance?
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:01 am
So how badly affected were you by the utter collapse of the O2 network yesterday? I alse see in the Bean Baron’s tampon this morning that iPhone’s are a tad expensive in the banana republic. I love the story about the lunatic in Tipperary who discovered how to fly in his Audi. Interesting how the family in the house were just back from Mass…..because the fact they were alive has something to do with that.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:11 am
It would be unwise to rule out anything, one way or the other, Jo.
Ub – my network was fine, I think. Wasn’t paying too much attention yesterday. And as for the Audi – he was obviously a well educated driver who just happened to be unlucky.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:16 am
twenty, have you ever walked in and someone has been sitting in your seat ?
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:16 am
I reckon Ron’s is really like that Far Side cartoon where all the cows are standing around on their hind legs in the field, leaning against the gates and shooting the breeze etc. until the watch-cow shouts “car!” and the all get down on 4 legs again til the people go past.
I reckon everyone in Ron’s is glued to Home and Away and Neighbours each lunchtime, until the watch-geezer shouts “Punter!” and a non-regular comes in, whereupon you all snap your rapt, possibly drooling, expressions back to habitually sullen and a bit scary. I bet Ron cried at Charlene’s wedding.
*Runs away*
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:20 am
It happened once, Leeroy, but it was Dirty Dave sitting there doing an impression of me. I got him back though.
PCB – you better run.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:21 am
*Comes back*
I know Staropramen’s meant to be the shit and all, but I thought it was the crap. I wanted to like it but I could barely drink the stuff. It’s too … somethingy, or something. Untasty.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:22 am
The subtle difference between the shit and the crap. I like it. The shit. Not the crap. Or I think the crap’s the shit. Or something.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:32 am
So with the merger between Inbev and Budweiser announced this morning will:
a. bud start to taste like real beer; or b. Those fancy contintental beers start to taste like Bud (which is not really a thought I want to pursue…as Bud is a really really shite beer)
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:32 am
Nothing shittier than the crap. Ain’t that the shit, brother. You know it.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:33 am
Or something.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:38 am
Nice picture too of a copper running away when the wreakage began to fall on top of him.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:44 am
Imperial Leather? That’s real class for you. We used to get a giant red bar of carbolic soap in the jacks. It was about eight inches by four and the sink was so small we would find the soap on the floor more often than not.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:04 am
Don’t leave us Twenty.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:28 am
“pattered carpet”
*subtle cough* you might need an N there boss.
I didn’t see nothin’ horse.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:31 am
Sounds like a right fucking shithole.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:33 am
Ta, Morgor.
It is, J5. Nearly as a big a shithole as your arse.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:36 am
Why thank you, thank you very much.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:37 am
Twenty comtemplates his own mortality.
It must be his birthday? And the melancholy edge?
Ron didn’t give him a birthday drink.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:39 am
Happy Birthday, Twenty.
All the good bloggers are retiring now though – not blogging is hte new blogging. He’s off to invent a new medium.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:39 am
It’s my birthday tomorrow. I want a post dedicated to me or I’ll burn your face down, Twenty.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:41 am
“I wonder sometimes how much of my life I’ve spent on this stool.
Sometimes I wonder how much longer I’m going to spend on it.”
The accretion of mollycules, if I may infer from O’Brien as posited in The Third Policeman*, is such that by this time you are, indeed, stool and stool is, indeed, you. I submit therefore that between the two of you the argument is redundant and that neither of you has a leg to stand on. It is not unreasonable therefore to suggest, and offered entirely in the spirit of friendship, that henceforth you both go by the aggregated moniker of Major Twenty Stools.
* To hell with The Shining. The scariest ending to a book ever is in The Third Policeman. That Policeman Fox, boyo. Watch out for him.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:45 am
I may just have to read it again. Love that book.
July 14th, 2008 @ 10:59 am
me too. excellent read
July 14th, 2008 @ 11:14 am
Man was a genius. I treat bicycles with respect these days.
Morgor – re the pattered Carpet and the missing N – S might be more apropriate ?
July 14th, 2008 @ 11:31 am
heh maggot, and maybe brown rather than red.
July 14th, 2008 @ 11:35 am
…and the extensive menu Twenty? Tell us what the modern gastro-slum is serving these days…
July 14th, 2008 @ 11:38 am
I reckon there is a complete gene pool in that carpet – it would be a nightmare crime scene to investigate – all known body fluids present. God knows what would emerge if it was irradiated.
July 14th, 2008 @ 11:51 am
completely off topic, but..
http://i37.tinypic.com/b7jon9.gif
July 14th, 2008 @ 11:53 am
Oh no! The conk! So cruel! Does anyone know what that move is actually callled, the conk and slide one? And hte gorilla suit gives it so much more pathos.
July 14th, 2008 @ 12:04 pm
They probably ham it up a bit for WWF (or WWE as they call it now).
The reverse crown headsmash followed by the double cross jumping footslide kick.
July 14th, 2008 @ 12:12 pm
“My stool has my shape”
A bit curtain stains that are the image of Jesus, except perfectly formed and in the toilet bowl?
July 14th, 2008 @ 12:13 pm
A bit like curtain… etc
July 14th, 2008 @ 12:14 pm
When I was a kid I was visiting the US. I met Jake the snake in a petrol station. He tried to molest me but when i questioned the authenticity of the WWF he got a little annoyed and began to list his career injuries instead. I think broken spine was one of them.
July 14th, 2008 @ 12:28 pm
Happy Bastille Day, everybody.
July 14th, 2008 @ 12:48 pm
http://i37.tinypic.com/b7jon9.gif
That is fucking brilliant – not quite as good as this though – http://www.planetdan.net/pics/misc/midget2.gif
SoS – Ron does crisps. Cheese and onion.
July 14th, 2008 @ 12:52 pm
Yellow suits you Twenty.
I hope the crisps are Tayto ?
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:00 pm
I can’t even begin to imagine how that face slide must have felt.Fuck.
Yeah, Tayto or King? Or is it Monster Munch.
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:02 pm
Didn’t Ron used to serve Knacker Pie on Sundays ?
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:02 pm
There’s a pub in Co. Cork that sounds like this. They have a smoking area at the back called “Fight Club” because it’s like that cage and the lighting is exactly the same. And I was advised not to wash my hands after going to the jacks because it would be considered gay. I miss it.
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:08 pm
Real pubs don’t have running water Holemaster
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:14 pm
It would be unwise to rule out anything, one way or the other, Jo.
Give a straight answer ya cunt. Are you packing it in?
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:29 pm
Haa Haa…. the midget, his face! Ah haa haa.
That must have been a little sore.
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:34 pm
I’m sure you mean ‘differently large sore’, Walter.
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:46 pm
No, their faces are generally in and around the same size as the average guy. It’s only their torso, limbs and digits that are comparatively smaller. Bless them.
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:52 pm
Do they give good blow-jobs, or are they just like a normal one off any bloke?
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:54 pm
Well the bonus is they all think you have a massive donger.
July 14th, 2008 @ 1:56 pm
What about the dwarves?
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:01 pm
Ask yer Da Monkey balls.
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:14 pm
Why is it that every time I mention Dwarf Sex, this page goes quiet for about 20 mins?
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:16 pm
Hope you all remembered to erase your ‘History’!
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:23 pm
I had a midget friend years back but he never got any of my jokes…. they just went straight over his head.
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:39 pm
I once had this terrific video of Bruce Jones (Les Battersby off Coronation Street) taking a slapper from behind while she sucked off a midget who was standing on the bed. It was one of those rare porno movies where everyone involved seemed to be having a great time. I’ll never forget the grin on that midget’s face.
I’ve searched and searched, but can’t find it anywhere.
Do any readers have a copy they could loan me, or know where I can get it again?
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:40 pm
You’re determined to stop the comments on this thread, eh?
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:41 pm
I’m sorry. I’ll shut up for the rest of the day as penance.
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:46 pm
No, carry on.
But Les Battersby and a midget, your brain is in a dangerous place.
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:49 pm
i never saw the video, but i got an e-mail of celebrity pornstar lookalikes.
One of them was les battersby.
It’s not just in his brain. IT’S IN MINE! ARRGGHHH.
July 14th, 2008 @ 2:53 pm
Christ it cannot exist ?? can it ??
July 14th, 2008 @ 3:35 pm
But what’s worse – a Les Battersby lookalike, or Les Battersby?
I mean, even if you came upon (heh heh) a Les Battersby pornstar lookalike, at least you could comfort yourself with the facat that it wasn’t actually Les Battersby.
If you see my point.
July 14th, 2008 @ 4:15 pm
I know I’d prefer to see the real deal in action, maybe giving Vera Duckworth some fong.
July 14th, 2008 @ 4:22 pm
“while she sucked off a midget who was standing on the bed.”
I wonder if the Midget greeted that porn star by saying “Hi Ho”.
July 14th, 2008 @ 5:44 pm
HA Mr Holemaster that’s really funny, very clever you must be very intelligent.
July 14th, 2008 @ 5:45 pm
Whit-isshhhhh get back to work you sycophantic moron, those light switches won’t clean themselves.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:06 pm
How many people are comparing Ron’s to their own local and coming up with a damn close match?
I nominate Walsh’s in Stoneybatter.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:26 pm
My favourite bar ever is Carbury’s in Drogheda or The Quay’s in Galway BEFORE they turned it into one of those bars with loads of stairs and mezzanines making it impossible to get to the jacks and then back to your seat without GPS.
July 14th, 2008 @ 9:30 pm
A bar in Donabate had, as usual, two doors beside each other for the toilet, ladies and gents, only that the gents door opened to the car park and the urinals were under a corrugated roof on the other side.
Another great one is a pub a friend of mine was which had a separate disabled toilet which just let into the gents. So what about disabled ladies?
July 14th, 2008 @ 11:55 pm
Well, I suppose they can just pee where they sit.
Sorry Holemaster, I actually had vague guilt while making dinner about not responding to your clever quip. It was very clever. But I couldn’t find much more to say, somehow, so I left it.
But that was wrong!
July 15th, 2008 @ 7:34 am
I’d like to point out that a semi-rectangle, is just a smaller rectangle, and therefore cant really be a semi-rectangle by definition,.. But of course I wont cause Mr Pish would only give out to me..
July 15th, 2008 @ 11:34 am
“It was very clever. ”
Validate me, validate me!
July 15th, 2008 @ 2:32 pm
No,No SAm you are quite right, give me a take on glass half full/half empty
August 5th, 2008 @ 7:55 am
thats awful shittalk