Davy would drive you to distraction. We were sitting in a nice cafe in town having a grand auld chinwag when he stands up and says loudly to me: “An bhfuil cead agam dul go dti an leithreas?”
“Jaysus, Davy!” I says to him as I pulled the biggest reddner you’ve ever seen.
“This isn’t high babies. You don’t need my permission to go to the bleedin’ jacks.”
“I know,” he says. “But I’m trying to use me cupla focal. It’s dying out, so it is. I hear they’re not even using it in Dingle anymore. A load of tourists said they went down there and didn’t hear anyone speaking Irish. In a Gaeltacht area, like.”
“And sure why would they be speaking Irish to someone from Germany or Spain or wherever?” I says to him. “Sure, they’re not gonna have a clue what they’re saying anyway.”
“I suppose you’re right, Gaz,” says Davy. “But even still, I like using the cupla focal. Puts me in touch with me Celtic soul.”
“Celtic soul?” I says. “You’re some tulip! But sure, I’m sure your Celtic soul is a fine soul indeed.”
“Ah now, don’t start again,” he says with his face creasing up again.
“The Celtic soul is a powerful thing. People of the diaspora all possess it. Look at yer man Ed Sheeran, king of the pop world thanks in part to his Celtic soul.”
Would ye believe how often I have to put up with listening to this guff?
“The people of Castleknock probably don’t think so,” I says. “Why not?” he says.
“Well, yer man Sheeran is coming to the Pheono but the residents there say they’re worried about people using their gardens as the jacks.”
“Really?” he says to me, leaning in like this is some sort of grand conspiracy.
“Yeah, they’re worried about anti-social behaviour – that’s what we used to call acting the maggot.”
The wrinkles on Davy’s forehead tend to swim up and down his head when he’s thinking. It’s almost like you can see his brainwaves slowly clicking into gear.
After a while, he says to me: “Here, I heard they were thinking of putting in a farm in Ballymun to tackle anti-social behaviour.”
“So?” I says.
“Well maybe the animals have a calming effect,” he says.
“Wha’? So ye reckon if the people of Castleknock get a few rabbits and whatnot in their gardens it’ll stop people using their garden as a jacks?”
“I dunno, maybe.”
I can think of more than a cupla things wrong with that, Davy, for focal sake.