Duke attempts the Impossible

[duke3016]

We used to deliver groceries to people in the outlying areas who had no transport, pillars of the community us (or mean grabbing b*stards).

Anyway, I was delivering up the mountain to the last house in the road where lived one Mike “mowley” McNamara. He was a bull of a man if a little slow in the upstairs department. Would give you the shirt off his back and then beat you to get it back.

My very first encounter with this man was in Minogues Bar in the village. He didn't come down the mountain much but when he did he would stay for a while and get absolutely plastered. Anyway he walked into the bar and had a tray of the most obnoxious looking vegetables that he had grown himself. They were awful. Denis Minogue obviously saw my face and whispered.

“Buy some off him” says he
“What” says I
“Trust me” says he

Mike trust the tray under my nose and the smell was awful, I picked one particular manky looking tomato and placed 50p on the tray.

“Thank you sir” says he waiting.
“I'll finish my pint and get some salt before I eat it” says I with a sincere look on my face.
“Good Man” says he

He went over to another man, a stranger to the village and thrust the tray under his nose.

“Feck off” says the man
“Oh Oh “ says Denis Minogue

Then the scene exploded, Mike dumped the tray on this guy's head and proceeded to kick the Shiite out of him, tables were over turned as we grappled with Mike, God he was a strong bugger. As quick as the fight started it was over. The stranger had legged it and Mike picked up the tray and thrust it under the next man's nose. He did a roaring trade.

Back to the grocery delivery.

I was going down their long drive to the house when a car came out and I was forced to move to the left. Crunch, my front wheel when into the ditch. The other car kept going and I got out and the wheel was well and truly in the ditch. Mike walked up the road took a look and lifted the front of the car effortlessly out ditch and back on the road.. One of the strongest men I have ever met.   

[duke3016]

Now there is a subject that might offend certain people on this forum, but for me it was a way of life. I am referring to hunting. The fact that I do not take part in this activity anymore is that I have got old and fat, and my ethical thought processes may have changed.

One day we decided that we would go back to a more traditional way of hunting. This involved leaving the shotguns at home and going after rabbits with a wattle. Now a wattle is a piece of wood approximately 1 metre in length and uniform in girth, a bit like a elongated relay baton.

The object was that the dogs would flush the rabbits out of the undergrowth and you would then try and knock the rabbit over by skimming the wattle just above ground level and then if successful get to the rabbit whilst it was dazed and deliver the coup de grace with a well placed chop on the neck ensuring death was instantaneous.

This method at least gave the rabbit a fighting chance to get away. The only point of caution would be do not try this method immediately after a few pints in the local.

The participants this day were myself, my uncle Dex, Eugene Canny, Dominic Stuart and John Nash. We had a few pints in the local and collected our wattles and strode over the fields with the dogs in tow.

The dogs were good at flushing the rabbits we were slightly less successful in hitting them

Dex hit Eugene on the ankle twice
John poleaxed his dog (and the dog fecked off home in disgust by the way)
Dominic hit me in the shoulder (he didn't quite grasp the technique)
Eugene nearly decapitated John when John was bending down to retrieve his wattle and a rabbit ran in front of him.

We must have missed a score of rabbits but we were in stitches every time there was a miss or one of us was hit.

Then it happened, Eugene couldn't hit a barn door if he was in the barn. On this occasion the poor rabbit was misfortunate enough to run into the wattle rather than it being expertly thrown. The rabbit tumbled over and Eugene sprinted and grabbed the rabbit in order to deliver the killing blow.

He chopped the rabbit behind the neck and dropped it to the ground at which point the rabbit hit the grass looked at Eugene, seemed to poke it's tongue out,  and took off at high speed into the undergrowth. Well we just collapsed and had to abandon the activity and retire to the pub to discuss the various techniques of throwing whilst exercising our elbows.

Rabbits (1) - drunken incompetent hunters (Nil)

n.b. By the way we were never once successful whilst hunting with wattles but it was a very very funny way to spend a couple of hours.

[duke3016]

Now, there is an overworked phrase, “that's a hard man and is totally without fear”, but the next subject for this senile author is just that.  Paschal O' Halloran played hurling to the max, joined in the usual Saturday night rumble to the max and worked at everything he did to the max. You could beat him for a week and he would still get back up right at you.

In one junior hurling match, the full forward line was , right corner forward - Paschal, Full forward - Me, Left corner forward Micky Hill. Well shortly after the start it kicked off I was locked in a little altercation with the full back and Micky was squaring up to his oppo when he dropped his hurley and put up his fists. His opposite number then just hit him with his hurley. Paschal ran over, dropped the corner back, looked at Micky spread on the ground and said “Never disarm yourself” before trotting back into position. The full back stopped trying to take my head off,  looked at me, I looked at him and he said “Fecking hell who is that”. Good days..

Anyway, Paschal worked for a landscaping firm in Shannon and there was a fire in the storage shed. The boys all ran out and were surveying the fire with detached interest when someone said “Shaughnessy is still in there”. Paschal just took off and ran through the flames found the man collapsed on the floor. He picked him up and when he couldn't go back through the inferno he kicked down the galvanised panel at the back and carried him to safety.

As a footnote Paschal spent 3 months in and out of hospital with burns to 50% of his body and still bears the scars. The man he saved had no injuries bar smoke inhalation and sued the company for a huge wedge of money.

Paschal went back to work for the same firm and wasn't' going to claim a penny, until someone pointed out that the insurance would be paying not his boss. A man for your corner that's for sure.

[duke3016]

Now we all know the larger than life character that is Jack 'Tecnolog' Prime. A regular on the APAT circuit and a jolly nice chap. Well there were a couple of 'incidents' over a certain weekend.

'Incident' 1.
After a lovely night in the town and a wee trip to the casino, retirement to the hotel was thought to be the best option. Objective achieved, most of us retired to await the carnage that was to be the morning rising.

However one of us, Jack to be precise, needed to arise during the night in order to attend the bathroom. According to himself, he arose out of his bed and wandered to the toilet, missed the toilet door and opened the room door. He walked a couple of steps and soon realised that the scene in front of him did not resemble the topology of a bathroom.

The 'click' as the door closed was enough to sober the poor man up and realise the quandary he was in. Naked as the day he was born and in a hotel corridor. Nothing for it but to go down to reception and ask for a duplicate key. Down in the lift and out into a thankfully deserted foyer. On requesting the key the guy on reception allegedly enquired whether or not Jack had ID on him. GG WP

Oh and as an aside, as he recounted this story the next day he uttered the immortal sentence.

“I would not mind but that's not the first time I have done that”

[duke3016]

I moved energy supplier recently and was in credit with them. Now why the hell did they decide to return my excess monies to me by cheque. I mean, would it not have been cheaper and more convenient to return the monies to the account from where I had been paying my direct debit.

Anyway that meant I had to nip out at dinner time to the bank to pay it in. The bank was of course crowded because it was lunch time when most working people, if they had to, would be visiting the bank. Therefore it was entirely logical that they had 2 of the 7 windows in operation. So I waited (I know I could have used the fast pay-in but I am a distrusting person) and I waited and eventually one of the two windows freed up. The queue was still fairly long and I popped my cheque and payment slip under the window.

The teller did her thing and just before she handed me the receipt she engaged me in conversation.

“There is a person available right now, if you wish to discuss your account” says she
“Oh is there” says I
“Oh yes” she beamed
“And is this person trained in all aspects of banking procedures” says I
“Absolutely” smiled she
“Then wouldn't their time be better spent opening a third window, rather than trying to sell me a product I don't want.”
“Eh” gawped she
“Good day” says I

Simple things like that piss me off, really they do..

[Paulie_D]

Now we all know the larger than life character that is Jack "Tecnolog" Prime. A regular on the APAT circuit and a jolly nice chap.

I"ll just leave this here and exit quietly.

[duke3016]

Now we all know the larger than life character that is Jack "Tecnolog" Prime. A regular on the APAT circuit and a jolly nice chap.

I"ll just leave this here and exit quietly.

Oh Memories

[duke3016]

The stories surrounding the origin of April Fool"s Day are widely various and it"s hard to be certain about the truth - especially when you consider that people feel they have carte blanche to make things up when it comes to this subject. Still, whether it"s true or not, one popular tale dates the tradition to 1564, when France formally changed its calendar to the modern Gregorian version, and thereby moved the celebration of the New Year from the last week of March to 1 January. In this version of events, those who continued to celebrate the end of New Year"s Week on 1 April were derided as fools - or, as they are known in France, poissons d"Avril.

The question is - Do people really still play pranks. The problem with the modern April Fool"s is that pranks are so thoroughly embedded into our culture that a day specifically devoted to them can almost seem redundant. As denizens of this forum will no doubt testify.

Now, however, the PC people are charging in. The Health and Safety Executive, acting on a stream of complaints, has ordered an investigation into the potential risks of practical jokes in the workplace, with particular regard to 1 April. And an MP has tabled a motion calling for "this vile and outdated practice to be outlawed at once", or have I been caught by a media joke a couple of weeks early?

[duke3016]

So it's Blackpool this weekend. Looking forward to this immensely.

Now followers of this blog have heard me say a few times that I am a recreational poker player. This is very true I enjoy the friends I have met and the craic that ensues.

I was looking at another forum where a guy was abused for playing a hand all wrong, he actually did quite well in the tournament he was playing but got all sorts of dog's abuse for one particular hand (others defended him but as is normal defenders are always outnumbered by attackers). He had his reasons and tried to explain them, however my point to him would be why bother explaining. Constructive criticism is a good thing, name calling and abuse is not.

My point of all this drivel.

If you encounter me at a table this weekend please remember that I am an eejit and I won't get upset if I am called one either. However, don't anyone be getting upset if I make a 'donkey' play and outdraw you, it's not personal, and you will win in the long run anyway, get over it.

[Fatcatstu]

So it"s Blackpool this weekend. Looking forward to this immensely.

Now followers of this blog have heard me say a few times that I am a recreational poker player. This is very true I enjoy the friends I have met and the craic that ensues.

I was looking at another forum where a guy was abused for playing a hand all wrong, he actually did quite well in the tournament he was playing but got all sorts of dog"s abuse for one particular hand (others defended him but as is normal defenders are always outnumbered by attackers). He had his reasons and tried to explain them, however my point to him would be why bother explaining. Constructive criticism is a good thing, name calling and abuse is not.

My point of all this drivel.

If you encounter me at a table this weekend please remember that I am an eejit and I won"t get upset if I am called one either. However, don"t anyone be getting upset if I make a "donkey" play and outdraw you, it"s not personal, and you will win in the long run anyway, get over it.

Its going to be epic

Bring on Thursday, a few beers being had?

[duke3016]

I had to do some work from home on Saturday and into Sunday morning. We had a major network upgrade and I had to test all the connectivity stuff. Not difficult, just time consuming. I didn't finish until 5.30am.

I woke up around 11am and felt a little groggy, pulled myself out of bed and put on my glasses. The view of the world was still a little hazy as I went down to the kitchen to get a cold can of coke from the fridge. A couple of gulps of that and the dryness was gone from the throat, however the view of the world was still a little out of focus.

I must still be tired and my eyes had yet to adjust to the new day. I fired up the computer and had some difficulty focusing on the screen. Never mind, it will become clear when I wake up properly.

It was really tough to make out the content on the screen so I thought I had better clean the lenses. Right hand side first, with the glasses cloth, got a goodly wipe. Left hand side to go and my fingers touched.

FML the lens was missing. Now have you ever had to search for something to do with your glasses without said glasses being at their optimum operating power.

I eventually found it upstairs and lens repositioned the view of the world was back to normal.

Priceless.

[technolog]

Now we all know the larger than life character that is Jack "Tecnolog" Prime. A regular on the APAT circuit and a jolly nice chap.

I"ll just leave this here and exit quietly.

Oh Memories

I"ve instructed my attorney 

[duke3016]

I had occasion to hire a car when mine was poorly. Anyway I took the car down to the garage on Saturday morning and he couldn't look at it until Monday, so I decided to hire a car as I had things to do and work the following week.

Because there was an amount of 'gunge' at the top of the oil filler spout I assumed the worst and thought it might be a head gasket so I booked the hire car for 7 days.

On Tuesday I got a phone call from the garage to tell me it wasn't the head gasket, it was something called a 'coil rack' (sound sore that does) and the 'gunge' was just condensation. The car would be ready in the evening.

Relieved it wasn't too major (it still set me back a few bob, but not as much as I feared) I rang the car hire company to arrange to send the car back and get a refund.

Me: “I want to return the hire car early, will I get a refund”
Girl: “Of course sir, let me get the file”

Girl: “No problem you will get £18 refunded”
Me: “I am returning the car 4 days early, why so small a refund”

Girl: “Ah, if you return it early we recalculate the hire at a higher rate”
Me: “See you Saturday.”

Priceless

[duke3016]

I took my driving test in Limerick, in a mini of all things. My father had tried to teach me to drive and his habitual short fuse usually cut short any lesson we would have. However, against all odds,  I did learn to drive but needed some tuition to remove the ould lad's bad habits that had rubbed off on me. Not least of which was to pour a continuous stream of obscenities at anybody who had the cheek to be on the road at the same time as him. Therefore I took a couple of lessons at a driving school in Limerick and they had mini's as their cars.

Now,  because my Father had spent so much time on the buildings in England he had an English licence and under the rules in those days you had to take your test in order to get an Irish licence (bless the EU you don't have to now). This prompted much gnashing of teeth and numerous tirades against the dubious ancestry of people that worked in the Department of Transport.

As luck would have it we were down to take our test on the same day, he first, me directly after. We had an old Ford Anglia and we set off for Limerick.

“You will of course remember all I taught you” says he, swerving around a car and then when the other driver had the temerity to honk his horn, giving a non standard hand signal out the window and telling the other driver to do something physically impossible and morally wrong. Yeah right

He dropped me off and I went round to the driving centre to pick up the mini while he took his test. The instructor let me drive around for a while and we parked up. I was on my way in to the test centre when he emerged with a white piece of paper in his hand and a look of immense pleasure on his face.

“I passed no problem” says he - Feck no pressure then
“I'll see you in Cruises Hotel after your test” says he

Bugger, I was in a no win situation here. If I passed it was all down to him and if I failed I was a thick eejit who shouldn't be let near the wheel of a car and was totally un-teachable.

I walked into the examiner's office and sat down opposite a man who looked like he had been 10 rounds with Mohammed Ali. The smell of drink off him was overpowering and he looked as crabby as hell.  FML

I expected the sign recognition test at this point. No, he just elevated himself to his feet with great effort and started towards the door.

“Right, lets get this over with” says he

We walked to the car and I expected the number plate reading test, No, he just plonked himself in the passenger seat.

“Pull out and turn right” says he

I pulled out and indicated right and drove around the corner

“Turn next right” says he

I did as I was told and was mentally bracing my self for when the three point turn, reverse around corner, emergency stop etc would take place.

“Turn next right” says he

Ok deep breaths we are now going to leave the busy city traffic and go out into the sticks.

“Turn next right and park” says he

OK the old take off on a hill, the lousy eejit was going to make me take off into busy city traffic once more, sadist.

“Switch off and follow me into the centre” says he

WTF - had I made that bad a mistake that I was failed in the first couple of minutes and he couldn't bear to be in the same car as me. The ould lad was going to have a fecking field day with this one.

“You've passed congratulations” says he passing me the invaluable white sheet. He then reached for his coat and walked out the front door with me trailing behind with my mouth still agape. He promptly went next door to the pub and disappeared inside.

I met the ould lad in Cruises Hotel and as I walked in I swear he looked at his watch and his eyes lit up and he was about to say something profound and probably malicious. I waved the paper.

“I passed” says I
“Feck” says he deflated

Gotta love him

Priceless

[duke3016]

With all the furore about Cheltenham, I must tell you a story of a trip to Mallow races in Cork.

A local publican had a horse running that day. Now this horse was sired by a donkey out of a rabid mule and under no circumstances would she win a farting contest let alone an official race. However we organised an outing and away we went.

The horse was running in the third race and unsurprisingly was huge odds. Sentiment was never my strong point and I resolved not to bet on the nag.

The publican pulled me to one side.

“Ger, will you place a bet on the horse for me” he whispered
“Why don't you do it yourself” says I
“I can't be seen betting on my own horse, it would affect the odds” said he sotto voice.

Who the bleeding hell did they think he was, J P McManus FFS.

Now I have always liked to have a bet and as news goes, this revelation is up there with the fact that the Pope has always been partial to the odd prayer or two. However I looked at the rest of the field and there was no way in this world was that hairy excuse for a horse going to win.

“Ok, give us your money” says I
“It's a cert, get your own money on” says he, slipping me a ton. I looked at the money. Yeah, like that was going to make the bookies quake in their Gucci loafers.

I backed the horse for him at outrageous odds in the high 20's if I recall rightly. I shook my head and sighed at his naivety and I backed the one I though most likely to win. Funnily enough, the odds on his horse came in as the race approached and settled in around 18/1 I think.

It was a 7 horse race and as they paraded down to the start, His horse was looking knackered in the gentle canter, whilst all the other horses looked mean and ready for the race.

Trying to get the horse into the stalls took 6 strong men, a blindfold and a few well targeted whacks of the whip. Looking good then.

They were off and in the initial stages his horse was keeping up with the pack, albeit at the fecking rear. Good job I didn't bother.

“Going bad there” says I
“Wait for her burst of speed in the final 2” says he, with a confident smile.

Burst of speed! FFS the only way it would pick up would be if you shoved a cable from the national grid up its arse.

Then two furlongs out, the favourite, my pick by the way, was winning by a country mile and a few amazing things happened.

The jockey on the favourite was trying to make the horses head touch his arse, he was pulling on the reins so much.

The three horses trailing the leader seemed to go completely off course. Like the Red Arrows they spilt in formation heading for the off side rails.

The jockey on horse number 5 fell off. It was a flat race FFS.

The jockey on horse number 6 looked over his shoulder and seemed to beckon the other horse, by slowing down and leaving a gap on the rail you could drive a Jumbo jet through.

The horse sauntered past the now frantically beckoning jockey and won by a short head. It was only a short head because the other horse was walking at this stage with the jockey looking alarmed at the slow gain of the eventual winner.

There was no Steward's Inquiry, no complaints from the other owners, nothing, as the owner proudly collected his money off the plainly furious bookie.

“It was my turn today” says he “Hope you had a bundle on it” he winked.

FML - priceless, crooked, but still priceless……..