Ye know them films where fellas come back from the Vietnam War and they have tha’ haunted look in their eyes? Well, that’s what Paschal looked like when I called in to Janey Mac’s for a sneaky Sunday afternoon scoop.

“Busy day yesterday, Paschal?” says I.
“Bedlam!” he says.
“The place was heaving from the minute I opened the door. They were all in early to try and get a good seat to watch the rugby.”

I never thought I’d see the day when there was rugby on in Janey Mac’s. Is nothing safe from gentrification? I told Paschal no good would come of gettin’ in all those craft beers.
That sort of stuff attracts rugby types with funny haircuts.

In fairness though, isn’t it great to see Ireland on top of the world for a change – or at least on top of five other countries nearby that have a passing interest in the same sport.
Paschal reckons we have a good chance of winning the World Cup next year, so I’d better swat up on some of the rules so I can properly get on the bandwagon when it rolls around. Sure it’ll be good for an auld session or two if nothing else.

Yer man Ross seemed to enjoy himself anyway. He seemed to be in every picture I saw doing the rounds after the game, but I’m not sure if he knows any more about the sport than me – neither of us know the player’s names anyway by the looks of things.

Grumbling
Davy was grumbling about him when he came in. Saying he should be sorting out the Luas rather than gallivantin’ around with egg chasers. I thought that was a bit harsh, but Davy was saying he’s sick of hearing his young fella moaning about the crowds on the trams every day.

Paschal said they were talking about putting on buses as an alternative transport to the Luas. I thought the Luas was the alternative form of transport to the bus, but sure there ye go!

“Ah, lay off poor Ross, Davy,” says I.
“At least he’s not as bad as Leo, off fawning over the Trump fella for a week.”
“Ah, Leo’s not that bad,” says Davy.
“Bono seems to like him, anyways.”
“Bono!?!” says I.
“Sure he’s a bowsie too.”
“Bono’s a great lad all together,” says Davy.
“Look at all he does for charity. I reckon he’s a modern Irish hero, up there with Collins and De Valera.”
“I don’t know about that, Davy,” I says.
“I’ve never seen the words ‘Dev Is A Pox’ scrawled on any walls in town.”