I popped in to see Davy on me way home from the shop. I hadn’t seen him for a while so I thought I’d show me face and have an auld chinwag.

He does me head in at times but he’s still a mate at the end of the day. No sooner had he poured the tea into me mug, he was launching into a sermon and I was beginning to regret my decision.

“It’s shocking, it really is,” he says. “What’s the country coming to at all?”

He’s not a man for context, is Davy.

“What the bleedin’ hell are ye on about?” I says to him.

“That fella who lost his job driving the Luas because he was driving the wife’s Joe Maxi,” he says.

“Well, it did say in his contract he couldn’t have any other jobs,” I says. “Bit harsh but what can ye do?”

Davy jumped up at of his chair. “But this country was built on nixers!” he roars at me, waving his hands in the air.

“I suppose ye might actually have a point for once,” I says to him. “Sure, didn’t Jimmy’s young fella put that alarm in for me.”

“And he did a great job,” says Davy.

“Ah, he did indeed,” I says.

“We always get Patsy to do any plumbing for us,” says Davy. “Few quid into the hand for him. Sure what’s the harm like?”

“Well, I suppose it’s harmful to the tax man,” I says.

“Ah here,” says Davy. “I won’t hear any lamentations for the tax man under my roof. And these lads pay plenty of taxes in their regular jobs. No harm in earning a few quid on the side.”

I partially agreed with him. More to the point, I just couldn’t really be bothered arguing with him.

Sure, I’d no leg to stand on really, seeing as how I’ve availed of such services in the past.
“Ah look, I suppose you’re right on this one then, Davy,” I says while I wrestled with the wrapper, trying to get the last Jaffa Cake out of the packet for himself got to it first.

“Although,” I says, munching on me biccie. “I’m a bit surprised that yer man was driving a taxi on the side.”

“Why is that?” Davy asks me.

“Well, he’d have had nowhere to put his sandwiches,” I says.