Duke attempts the Impossible

[duke3016]

I awoke on the morning of our first full day on holiday strangely OK given the amount of drink and my late night swim. There was no sign of Laurel & Hardy which wasn't surprising, so I wandered down the street to get the morning papers and bumped into the bar owner.

“Did you get back OK last night” says he
“Aye, no bother” says I, not revealing the embarrassing late night swim.
“Will we see you later on” says he
“No doubt” says I
“Good, however it might be better if you walked home away from the ocean” he sniggered

FFS I should have known the story would have been common knowledge.

I went back to the house and my mother had surfaced. She was about to make breakfast and I settled down to read the paper. Then in comes the ould lad, looking like death warmed up.

“Jesus your eyes look terrible” says me Ma
“You should see them from this side” says he

He plonked himself down gently and groaned. You know what?  I was getting a little sadistic pleasure out of his discomfort. We spent the day wandering in the sunshine (yes the sun does shine sometimes in Ireland) stopping off for lunch in a small café on the front. The ould lad was obviously getting better as he complained about the price of everything and getting numerous digs in about my “swim” FML

We retired back to the house and I got ready to go out.

“You coming out tonight” says I
“Not this fecking early” says the ould lad
“See you in that pub later then” says I

I wandered on a bit of a pub crawl and made my way back to the pub when I was passing a newish Lounge bar that looked like it was bouncing and as I approached the door I saw the door open and out walked the odd couple, linked and staggering FFS, being escorted by two tuxed telly tubbies.

Later why my parents were thrown out of that lounge bar  priceless

[duke3016]

Some of you may have read a previous tale about Nellie Hehir and her feet and how she frightened me. Well that formidable lady passed away last Monday aged 101. Great age, awesome woman.

[duke3016]

I managed to get the sniggering odd couple back to the house without any water being involved. The ould lad was of course giving his rendition of “Swimming in the Dark” loosely set to “Dancing in the Rain” but with a few choice differences.

Safely tucked up I left them and wandered down to the pub for a few nightcaps and retired to bed at some hour of the morning. Of course the talk in the 'local' was about these two “older” people having a bit of a barney in the town. I of course kept my head down.

I awoke to the sound and smell of breakfast and wandered out into the kitchen. My Ma was at the stove preparing said fare and the ould lad was at the table waiting to demolish it.

“OK Da, why were you turfed out of that bar?” says I
“A complete misunderstanding” says he
“Yes that young lad misunderstood you alright” says my Ma
“He didn't start a row?” says I
“Not really” says the ould lad
“Ma?” says I

My mother then recounted the night's episode.

“When you left, your father and I decided to take a stroll and him being a constipated drinker, couldn't pass a pub, so we went in. There was a couple of pool tables in the bar area and the place was beginning to fill up. After a good few drinks your father decided he wanted a game of pool and he put down his 50p. When it was his turn a teenager shouted “Oi Granddad, your turn”.

Oh dear I could see where this was going to end up. Now I wasn't worried about the ould lad making a fool of himself, because he was quite a snooker player in his youth and we had many tangles at the pool table and he was really quite good.

“Well I told him to take it easy and just play the game, but no, his first act was to enquire whether this lad would like to play this granddad for money. The young lad being confident of course jumped at the chance and put a fiver down. Your father covered it, won the toss, broke and cleared the table save for the black, but he left the young lad snookered behind it. The young lad wasn't happy and started to shout abuse about hustlers and such like. Your father of course could not hold back and told this teenager where to go”.

I could imagine the interaction here and once again I knew where it was going.

“Anyway the young lad failed to pot anything and your father potted the black, scooped the money and was walking away when the young lad gripped his arm and demanded his money back or else, no prizes for guessing your father's next move”

I looked over at the ould lad and he was beaming from ear to ear.

“Your father promptly decked the young lad and decided that he was going to have a piece of his friends. The bouncers were taking an interest at this moment and started towards your father and when one of the bouncers fell over a stool it got a little messy and we were asked to leave the premises” 

“How did the bouncer fall over a stool” says I
“I must have accidentally pushed it in his path” she said sweetly.


FFS we were going to run out of pubs that we could go into..

[duke3016]

Anyway today was Sunday so after breakfast we got ready and toddled off to midday mass to gain some celestial credits.

After mass the ould lad decided that we would head off down the coast road and cross the Shannon on the car ferry. My Ma and me flipped for the danger seat and she lost and took up position in the shotgun.

We headed off down the coast road and as usual the ould lad was driving with complete abandon down the single track roads and I was soon feeling a little queasy from all the buffeting I was getting in the back. We went to loop head lighthouse and spent the requisite 30 seconds looking at until when the ould lad shooed us into the car and we set of to the ferry.

I was hanging on for dear life for most of the trip and we arrived at the ferry and it was in on our side and we drove straight on. The ould lad of course complained bitterly, and loudly, about the price as we climbed out of the car for the 10 minute trip.

“Hey look, there's a funfair in Tarbert” says the ould lad
“You going on any wild rides” says my Ma
“Just had a fecking 40 minute one” says I

This elicited a withering look from the ould lad but he kept his counsel. We drove off the other side and found a nice pub for lunch washed down with one of the nicest pints of Guinness I have tasted. I could have stayed there all day but speedy Gonzales had other ideas and we headed back to the ferry.

I lost the flip and was in the front.

We had to wait for the ferry to cross which didn't improve the ould lad's temper. So much so that when we boarded, he was a tad enthusiastic with the loading and bumped into the car in front. Not a huge bump, but a bump none the less. He spent the whole trip across arguing with the other driver about how he braked too soon. FFS if he didn't brake he would have driven off the ferry into the Shannon.

As the damage was minimal they agreed that each of them was a complete b@stard and left it at that. The trip back was the usual mad roller coaster but we got back in one piece.

Thank God that night was fightless, swimless and Da singingless, and we retired for the night content with the world.

[duke3016]

On the Monday after breakfast my Mother and me were just in the process of flipping for the ejector seat when the ould lad announced that today would be a day on the beach.

To be fair, it was a lovely day and although on the warmest of days the Atlantic was still cold, it would be nice to relax. We picked up some beach towels and a rug and I went to change into my swimming costume. I arrived out and they were still in civvies.

“You not going for a swim” says I
“Of course we are” says the ould lad
“Where's your cossy then” says I
“I'm not walking across the road undressed” says he
“They are under our street clothes” says my Ma

I didn't ask how they were going to change back after swimming on a public beach. Better left unsaid.

We crossed the road and down the steps to the beach, which was not really crowded and spread the rug. I deposited my towel and headed for the ocean. The water was bound to be freezing, but being the hard man (show off?) I just ran into the water and dived into the surf.

OMG it was fecking freezing and I thought my heart had stopped, but after the initial shock it was quite pleasant and the waves were high enough for a bit of body surfing. I was enjoying myself when I noticed a rather cute thing in a bikini testing the water with her toe.

I wandered over and gave her a bit of encouragement and she slowly dipped down eventually immersing herself in the water. We were getting on like a house on fire when I saw her staring at the beach with a look of amazement. I followed her line of sight.

FFS it was like a scene out of “Upstairs Downstairs” my mother had a one piece swimsuit on that was high in the collar and I swear it would not have looked out of place at a Victorian beach party. The ould lad has a costume on and, how can I describe it? Remember Kirk Douglas in “Spartacus” with the costume high up on the waist, well apart from the physique that was what the suit was like.

They made an absolute picture walking down arm in arm to the waters edge.

“Who are they” sniggered the wee girl
“My parents” I sighed
“Oh I am sorry” says she
“Not as sorry as I am” says I “Watch though, this should be good”.

The ould lad unlinked from my mothers arm and strode into the water, and strode twice as quick out, trying to make his retreat look dignified and failing miserably. My mother walked up to about waist height.

“Come on Michael it's not that bad” says she

Not to be outdone the ould lad walked up beside her and she promptly pushed him hard in the chest so that he fell back with a splash. He got up spluttering and delivered the same to my mother.

The row started in earnest then with words and pushes galore. I went to separate them and as I did they stopped and were in hysterics splashing at each other like little children. I left them alone.

“Nice people, they seem to know how to enjoy themselves” says the wee girl
“Hmm, stick around, tonight could get lively” says I
“I'd love to” says she looking me straight in the eye

contd....

[duke3016]

We had a great day at the beach and when we were leaving I made arrangements to meet the wee girl (Anne) in the local that night around 8pm. We were in the pub from around 7.30 and when 8 came there was no sign of the wee girl. I was beginning to think that this was the shortest holiday romance on record and the ould lad was rubbing in it a bit.

At 8.30 Anne walked in looking a bit flustered.

“Sorry I am late there is a little trouble at the farm and I can only stay for one” says she
“What's up?” says I

Well it transpired that her parents ran a donkey sanctuary just out of town and a couple of the animals were not well and she had only managed to get away for a wee while and had to go back.

“Ger will go back and help you tonight, he loves donkeys” says the ould lad
“Oh would you” says Anne

FFS as most of you may know my encounters with donkeys were disastrous to put it mildly and I shot a glare at the ould lad who was looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

What could I do, Anne was looking at me expectantly so .

“Of course I will, I would love to” I lied

FML me and a dozen donkeys.. Great..

[duke3016]

Anne had walked into the town so we strolled arm in arm back to her place and it was a very pleasant walk. We reached the farm and went straight to a huge barn.

As we entered I was struck by the rows of neat stalls and to be honest the donkeys within them were a contented bunch looking well fed and happy. That was until we came to the end two stalls. The state of the donkeys within these made me take a breath. They were just bags of bones, cast on the scrap heap when their working life was over. Neglected by the very people that they had faithfully served for years.

Anne prepared some medicine in a large plastic syringe and passed it to me.

“Place the syringe near the base of the tongue and squirt the lot in” says she.

I took the syringe and looked at the miserable wretch in the stall and was still petrified. I opened the stall door and on Anne's instruction's just stood there and waited for the donkey to approach me. He quite obviously had been mistreated by a man in his time and looked at me with a leaky eye.

Stalemate. Well I just stood there like a lemon and suddenly the donkey started towards me and dutifully stopped in front of me. I took the syringe and held his head as he opened his mouth and I managed to administer the medicine without losing my hand. Maybe I should try the stand still approach with Beelzebub back at home.

Anne had finished giving the other donkey an injection and we sat on two stools and talked softly.

“My father is reliving me at 3am, you need not stay” says she
“Oh No I am happy to be here” says I

We chatted and the time sped by without the animals requiring any more assistance when the barn door opened and in walked a very large man. Undoubtedly her father.

“Who are you?” he boomed
“Ger Smyth Sir” I replied
“What the hell are you doing here” says he.

At this point Anne took him aside and talked quietly to him as I surveyed the barn for alternative exits if it got a little fractious. He harrumphed and went to check on the animals as Anne ushered me out the door.

“He takes a while to warm to you” says she
“About 20 years” says I

We agreed to meet later that night as she had the night off, and I will relate the story of when her Father met mine.

[duke3016]

I had a bit of a lie in the following morning and when I surfaced the odd couple were relaxing in the lounge with the days papers.

“Good night with the donkeys” says the ould lad
“Aye, it was an eye opener” says I

He looked me up and down, plainly disappointed that I had no external injuries.

“I encountered her father last night” says I
“Oh and how was he” says my mother
“A wee bit to the left of Genghis Khan, Da and him would get on well” says I
“What's her name” says my mother
“Anne O'Neill” says I
“What's her father's name” says the ould lad looking thoughtful
“Mr O'Neill” says I
“I see that it's going to be a long day” says he

He then related a story about a Tom O'Neill from Kilkee who was a boarder in St Flannan's at the same time that the ould lad was there. This passed a pleasant 45 minutes whilst myself and my mother completely ignored his monologue. Maybe we should have listened.

That evening we wandered up to the pub and had just settled in when Anne walked in accompanied by her father. FFS this was going to be a good night with us two being chaperoned by the two families.

“Well, if it isn't fecking Tom O'Neill” boomed the ould lad
“Feck me, Michael Smyth” says O'Neill

They stood toe to toe and measured each other up.

“We have unfinished business Michael” says O'Neill
“Aye, that we have” says the ould lad

I looked at my mother and she just shrugged

“Will we finish it now” says the ould lad
“Aye, why not?” says O'Neill

FFS I had just met this girl and now our two fathers' were looking to go a couple of rounds with each other. The rest of the pub had sensed this episode and were casting an eye over the proceedings.

“Will over there do?” says O'Neill
“Aye, good enough” says the ould lad

I just stared at the two of them, my Mother seemed unconcerned and Anne was looking to me for some sort of explanation. FFS I mentally calculated that if the last time these two met was when they were in Flannan's that would be fecking 1939. The barman was looking a little nervous as the two eejit"s removed their coats and pulled a table into the middle of the dance area. They positioned two chairs on either side of the table and sat down.

WTF was going on,

“Ger, over here” says the ould lad

I wander over still none the wiser.

“You can referee, the best of three” says the ould lad
“Referee what” says I
“Arm wrestle you fecking eejit” says he

Knowing better than to argue I got them to steady and said “Go”. Now these were two strong men and the competition was fierce. The pub went silent and a crowd gathered around them. The silence gradually was replaced with shouts of encouragement and helpful comments. I looked over at Anne and she looked genuinely puzzled, my mother was still at the bar with a resigned look on her face.

I heard a big cheer and looked over and O'Neill had won round one.

“You got fecking lucky” says the ould lad
“Yeah right” retorted O'Neill “Round 2?”
“Aye” says the ould lad

They resumed hostilities and this went on for ages back and forth with the ould lad under extreme pressure. He pulled the ould give/shove harder trick and took down the second round. They both looked a little shattered at this stage but were glaring at each other across the table. FFS whatever it was they were contesting was over 30 years ago.

“Ger what's going on” says Anne as the protagonists took a wee break
“I have no idea” says I “Ma WTF is going on”
“I think this might be a challenge that was never finished, what over I don't know” says she.

They were about to start the last and deciding round. The place was buzzing as they took positions. This round was momentous as they vied for supremacy. There seemed to be no way of deciding a winner and maybe that's what happened over 30 years ago. Two strong men with no way of finding a winner.

Suddenly as the ould lad seemed to have the upper hand and victory was inevitable O'Neill swung his free hand and popped the ould lad clear on the chin. Reaction was, of course, swift and inevitable as the ould lad threw himself at O'Neill.

There goes a beautiful friendship thought I as I moved to stop the fight.. I needn't have bothered as they had stopped trading blows and were grinning from ear to ear. They embraced each other and headed to the bar.

“Da?” says I and Anne in unison
“Shut up” said Da and O'Neill in unison as they leant on the bar
“Same ending as 34 years ago” says O'Neill
“Aye” says the ould lad “Will we ever have a winner?”

That was only the beginning of a very strange night..
 

[duke3016]

Well, O'Neill and the ould lad took to drinking like it was going to be made illegal in an hour's time. Pints with brandy chasers were the order of the day and there was no way I was going to fall into that trap. Besides I had love on my mind!! Anne and myself sat either side of my mother and we had a lovely chat as the two boys took on liquid.

After a while O'Neill staggered towards the toilet while the ould lad bought yet another round. I watched him stagger round a few stools and make his way to the toilet door. Just before he entered the doorway he was grabbed by two fella"s and pushed inside. I took off and realised as I raced towards the door that it was such a slick manoeuvre that no-one else had noticed.

When I opened the door the two heavies had O'Neill against the wall by the hand dryer and whatever they were saying they stopped when I entered. They let him go and turned to face me and as they did O'Neill slipped to the floor and sat down with a bump and a stupid smile on his face.

FFS was I going to take a pasting for the father of a girl I met yesterday. No brainer, of course I was. I squared up and was considering getting my retaliation in first when the door crashed open. I was wrong, the ould lad had noticed as well. He crashed in, looking for trouble, and his drunken forward momentum took him past me, past the two heavies and sent him crashing into the metal hand dryer. He let out a gasp twisted round and ended up in a heap beside O'Neill with the dryer blowing warm air on top of the two of them.     

To my surprise the two heavies backed out the toilet door with the parting shot of..

“We'll get you when you have no minders O'Neill”

FFS, me a minder. Now to get these two eejit's up and out. The door opened and I thought FML they decided to come back. No, it was my Ma and Anne.

“Who were they” says I
“It's a long story” says Anne looking at the two eejit's “Are they OK”
“Yes only their dignity has been battered” says I

The boys managed to get up and stagger past the women as if nothing had happened.

“Thank You” says Anne to me
“Fecking eejit, great help to Ger you were” says my Ma to my father slapping him on the back of his head

That was only the interlude, the rest of the night got really lively

[Des]

Magnificent stuff Ger.  They don"t make them like they used to, that"s for sure.

[duke3016]

Now back to another portion of possible the most “lively” of nights I have ever encountered

After the toilet episode we retired back to the bar.

“Now who the feck were those jokers” says I
“No one” says O'Neill

FFS I took Anne aside and she told me they were of a family that had been trouble for a few years and that they reckoned they had title over some land that the O'Neill's owned. FFS send in my mother she has a way of dealing with that LOL

“Will they be back tonight” says I
“Oh yes” says she
“So what normally happens then” says I
“Mayhem” says she
“No I mean he is still here, no offence, so what happens” says I
“Mayhem” says she

The door slammed open and the two heavies stood in the doorway flanked by two more heavies. O'Neill looks at the ould lad and says.

“No need to get involved Michael it's my problem”
“Your problems are mine” says the ould lad and of course added “Ger to me NOW”

FFS here we go again, don't get me wrong I would have gone through the doors of Hell beside the ould lad but this was stretching it. Odds, FFS the odds were so bad even I wouldn't call that hand. However Anne had a look in her eye as three very large lads appeared behind us and walked up beside her.

“Ger did I tell you I had three brothers” says she
“No” says I

But if I ever entertained any thoughts of messing her about (which I didn't) the sight of these strapping lads would have deterred me. They were big. This was going to get very 'lively'.

“Hello Ger” says one of them “We have heard about you”  FFS is nothing sacred

I think I copped on at this stage.

“Is this a regular occurrence” says I
“Oh yes, you prevented isolation of our Da” says one of the brothers “we are usually here to look after him, for that we thank you, and you can see Anne again if you like” he said, the last comment with a wink

FFS was that tacit approval of our fledgling friendship.

Anyway the 4 heavies in the door ran forward, the barman ducked behind the bar, metal shutters on the bar came down, people moved their pints to avoid the shutters (must have been out of habit), other patrons moved back, the three brothers moved in front of O'Neill and all hell broke loose.

Not to be out done I moved in front of the ould lad, who promptly shoved me out of the way and took up position in front of the brothers.

He got the brunt of the frontal assault and was knocked backwards, but not before he had got one fresh air shot in FFS, he really has to work on his technique. Next thing it was a pitch battle with no real damage, much like a rugby scrum with no real strike just a lot of hugging, until O'Neill took a hand.

He picked up a stool and wading in like mad man and was cleaving all before him, and that included me as the stool smacked me on my side and knocked me over. I got up and there was the ould lad, who had acquired a stool as the weapon of choice was also 'cleaving'.

It was over before it really started and we were all still standing when the 4 heavies, who  decided the odds to call an all in were not available, left the field of battle, the shutters came back up,

“Tom O'Neill can we stop this Shiite every Tuesday night” says the barman

FFS every Tuesday, was this a joke

“Thanks Michael it usually takes longer, your son is welcome to walk out with Anne” says O'Neill

Did I want to? However the night was not quite done as we ordered more drinks with her Da and her three large brothers.

Contd..

[duke3016]

I was of course intrigued as to why this particular rumble took place every Tuesday night. I mean, FFS, why only on a Tuesday, and why at all.


So being a direct person, I asked a direct question

“What the feck was that about and why only on a Tuesday” says I
“It used to be every time we met but we had a meeting and decided to limit the hostilities to one night only” says O'Neill
“FFS you had a meeting” says I
“Aye” says he
“And the only thing to come out of this meeting was a fight night, no other resolution” says I
“Yes there were other resolutions, like no hostilities at all in Christmas or Easter week and if one of either party's people were sick the opposition would reduce their numbers by one. Tonight's toilet issue was a departure from the agreed agenda.” Says he

I must have been hit on the head as I didn't understand this at all.

“So, in the light of this “departure” what going to happen now” says I
“We will call another meeting” says O'Neill
“And at this meeting will you discuss the core issue of land ownership” says I
“Oh no, only the fight rules” says O'Neill
“Will the issue of land every be resolved” says I
“Well to be honest, I am not arsed whether it is or not, we only need clarity around the fight night rules” says he

I had been beamed up to La La land and had been given hallucinogenic drugs. I looked at Anne and she shrugged. I looked at the ould lad, and he was nodding sagely as if the situation was completely normal.

“Of course, now that you are going out with Anne we will have to allow them to add one of the other brothers to even it up” says O'Neill

If they thought I was going to appear for “fight night” every week they had another think coming.

“No Da” says one of the sons “we distinctly said in the last meeting that additions could only be made to any side if the addition was married to the sister”

“Oh that's right, so when are you two getting married” says O'Neill

Whoa, this was progressing in quite the wrong direction as my mischievous mother started congratulating the two of us. I wisely kept my trap shut as Anne took my hand and winked at me.

“Right, drinks all round to the lucky couple” says O'Neill

contd..

[janc]

Priceless ive missed this

[duke3016]

I woke up the next morning with a bit of a head, last night really was just a dream wasn't it. Don't kid yourself Ger, no it wasn't. The night ended ok with Anne and myself laughing off the preposterous suggestions of marriage. The problem was her ould lad seemed serious. Nah he was just taking the piss, wasn't he?

I went out into the kitchen to the ould lad's off tune whistling of Mendelssohn"s "Wedding March”.  FFS he had a warped sense of humour. My mother was looking through Todd's clothing catalogue paying particular attention to ensembles with floppy hats.

“Knock it off” says I
“Pre nuptial nerves” says the ould lad

Sigh, it would probably be better if I said feck all and the joke would run its course.

Anyway I cast that to the back of my mind and enquired what we were going to do today.

“We are going shark fishing” says the ould lad
“Feck off, what are we really doing” says I
“Going shark fishing off Doonbeg” says the ould lad. “Your prospective Father-in-law sorted it out for us”

You'll be sleeping with the fecking fishes if you keep that up ould lad I thought to myself.

Should be a bit of craic anyway. We got ready and headed off to the harbour in Doonbeg. When we arrived we asked about and were directed to a boat at the end of the pier. It wasn't exactly the Calypso but it looked sturdy enough and the skipper looked the part. He had all the gear we required and we hopped aboard and the ould lad negotiated the going rate, paid the man and we set off.

We were the only three in the boat and the skipper went about instructing us on the safety etc. We ran for about 30 minutes and were informed that here we were to fish for mackerel, which was to be the bait for the sharks. Now mackerel are easy fish to catch, just drop a line with 6 lures, six tugs, and then reel in a full line of fish.

When we had enough of mackerel we steamed further out and the skipper started to drop some feeder bait out of the foulest smelling bucket I had ever had the misfortune to put my nose near. Now I am not the best sailor and that did the trick, the morning's breakfast went over the side. Swiftly followed by yesterday's tea and some of my stomach lining.

God I was ill and my mood wasn't made any better by the ould lad doing his impression of Captain Pugwash, stopping short of actually talking in a stage Pirate's accent. With the stomach empty I wasn't felling to bad but I sat out for a while watching the skipper help the ould lad hook up.

He was fishing for only a few minutes, when the tip of his rod twitched, then damn near bend double.

“Hang on Michael, smoothly does it" says the skipper.

Under the tutelage of the skipper the ould lad began to reel in whatever he had snagged. The skipper reckoned it was a shark and a goodly one.

“Gently, no jerks” says the skipper

Now telling the ould lad to be gentle was like telling a piranha to become a vegetarian. As the clock ticked the old lad got more impatient to land the monster of the deep at the end of his line.

“Gently” says the skipper

Gently my arse, the rod was bent double as the ould lad reeled and pulled at the same time, with his body leaning backwards as he heaved at the rod. I was watching this in fascination and expectation. Not because of the battle between man and a denizen of the deep, but more wandering when the line was going to break and how far backwards the ould lad would go.

The skipper had the same idea I think, and came out from behind the ould lad and stepped to one side still trying to get him to calm down.

The line broke.

The ould lad shot backwards and landed in a heap right on top of the foul smelling shark bait. He lay there for a moment getting his senses amid an expectant silence on the boat. He delivered a continuous stream of obscenities that echoed around the boat and over the water. If the creature that was on the end of his line was listening he was now dead through sheer force of will.

I did not improve the ould lads mood by collapsing to my knees weak with laughter and my mother was doing her best not to laugh and eventually failing. Even the skipper cracked a smile.

That was the only bite we had that day, but the memory of the ould lad in the pile of offal (and the way he smelled all the way back) will stay with me forever. As will his stories of how Moby Dick got away, as the boat chugged back to the harbour, the fish gained the dimensions of the QEII.

Priceless.

[duke3016]

I ran into Morrison's, this evening, for three things, two crates of beer and a loaf of bread. Tea and dessert taken care of then!

Anyway the Self-service checkouts are empty and I decide to breeze through them. I scan a box of beer and get a message that I need to be ID'd by a member of staff to prove I am eighteen or over. Said member of staff comes over, inserts a key, presses a code and we are good to go.

I place the crate of beer in the area where the bags are and a metallic voice tones “Unexpected item in the bagging area”

FFS no it's not I have just scanned the fecking thing.

Cue wee member of staff “Ah you must open the plastic bag and place the box of beer in the bag or it doesn't register as bagged”

“Don't want a plastic bag, think of the environment” says I

“Self checking demands that you use a plastic bag” says she

“Do you know about global warming” says I

“Put the beer in the bag” says she.

I put the beer in the bag and scan the next box of beer. Age check! Cue wee girl who comes over, inserts a key, presses a code and we are good to go. Now being a cute fecker I opened a second bag next to the first one and place the box of beer in the bag.

Perfect. NOT  “Unexpected item in the bagging area”

Feck

Wee girl approaches shaking her head.

“First bag must be used” says she

“Will not fit in the first bag” says I

Magic key inserted and both boxes are registered and safely in the trolley. She walks away with that look normally reserved for small children and drunks.

One item left, the loaf of bread. Cue barcode blindness and an attack of repetitive strain injury as I try to get the fecker to scan. Finally a beep and the bread appeared on the screen. I place it in the bag beside the scanner and. “Unexpected item in the bagging area”

FFS the machine was very forcibly calling me an eejit and everyone was watching, believe me, they were treated to a colourful display of language that was a delight to behold.

Cue wee girl who comes over, inserts a key, presses a code and we are good to go.

Now paying.. I decided to use a card and not risk the machine not reading my notes properly. This worked surprisingly well and as my dignity was shot to ribbons I made my way to the exit. Now irrational thought breaks out. Did I scan it all correctly? Did I pay correctly? Will I feel the long arm of security on my shoulder as I walk out the shop?

FFS it took three times as long to get three items than if I went through a manned (womaned?) till.

In the past shopping was all about personal service, We have shopping on the internet and now the expansion of fecking self-service tills, face-to-face time has been reduced or even excised completely from the shopping experience.

Self-Service checkouts suck, I will use the “people” tills next time

End of rant