Never judge a book by its accent

Did you ever have one of those moments where you meet someone, say at a bar, and for those few moments you feel like you are a part of a Hollywood blockbuster?

Someone nestles in beside you at the bar, you give up your place in the que insisting that the barman serves her first. She thanks you with a bat of the eyelashes and a smile and a faint ‘thank you’ but you only did it to find out if she is ordering the kind of drink a lurking boyfriend would have.

Gin and tonic. Sorted.

‘It’s mental in here tonight…’ that’s it, play off the fact that you let her get served before you…

‘yah yah eet is alri shore’ god she looks better than she talks, where is that accent from…

‘you wouldn’t wanna be thirsty at all ha’ minimum interest in pursuing this, she sounds like that auld fuck who commentates on the All Ireland Final.

‘Yah I don’t rally come out up here’ – up here? Christ next thing she will be asking does she know me from St. Pat’s in Drumcondra …

‘no no, sure first time in here myself…’

The barman interrupts, ‘pint of stout ben?’

‘Yeah yeah go on..’ – she didn’t even notice.

I watch her turn the mixer upside down into her drink and it’s then I notice the god awful dogs dinner job she has done on her fake tan. Her knuckles look like they’ve been dipped in treacle and then someone let her run loose in Claire Accessories with fifty quid..

‘that’s a lovely perfume you have on…’ the conversation had stalled and it’s all I could think of…

‘oh yah thanks…it’s eh a nu wan from Impulse…’ oh god.

She is after tipping her change into her handbag in one go and I’m nearly sure I catch a glimpse of a packet of Fisherman’s Friends in there too. I’m wondering where else I would be if I hadn’t ordered Guinness.

‘do ya wan do a shawt?’ I’ve actually partially turned my back to her at this point…

The only shot I’m interested in right now is the same one they gave Gene Hackman in the end of that film that he was in with Chris O’Donnell. I’m actually looking around to see if anyone is watching this…

‘Who me? No no thank you’ – It’s always nice to remain pleasant, even in the face of pure evil, with a ponytail.

She’s ordered two shorts of aftershock, I’m starting to believe I’m stuck in 1998 as she tips one of them down her throat. Who drinks Aftershock? I’m thinking as she beckons the second shot to me by pushing it across the counter while it’s fairly clear she is trying to stop herself from wretching.

I protest politely and push it back as the barman, who is fully fuckin’ aware of what is happening is shaping a heart on the top of my pint. The dick.

I’m home dry now, all I need to do is remain polite and hope she doesn’t get sick on me. After she knocks back that second shot she’s gonna be someone else’s nitelink problem.

‘Listen it was lovely meeting you…’ stall for name

‘oh sarry its OOOONA’ – she extends her paw. I shake it weakly.

‘Sure I might catch you in Abrakebabra after wha’ …….knowing full well there are 11 Abrakebabra’s in the Dublin inner city and there’s more chance of me getting up on Katy French tonight than bumping into this wan again. I’ll go to SuperMacs just to make doubly sure.

I go to walk away from the bar when a young looking guy with hair like the statue of liberty makes to shuffle in my place and just as I walk away he starts to chance his arm as the second shot of Aftershock dribbles down her chin

‘I was just saying to my mates it’s mental in here tonight…’

Go wan the Una!!!