Small Town (Alcoholic) Boy...

Ever hear the song by Bronksi Beat “Small town boy”? No? It’s a classic – you should go listen to it. GO! NOW!! The lyrics are rather fitting to this article, in a sense…but not a necessity to read it (but seriously, a bloody good song to listen to anyway!).

So, we all know that “Small Town Syndrome” exists, and by small town syndrome I mean that there are people within those said small towns that stay there forever, become increasingly frustrated at their situation ; shit out a baby or two, get married…and drink (not necessarily always in that order – but more times than not). Now I’m not belittling people in this situation, in fact, had I not been born into the family I was born, maybe I too would be a troublesome arsehole that sits around the local pubs leering at town’s women and itching for a fight…you know, just to pass the time…until that next drink, but I do think that these people are not only a drain on societies resources, but also oxygen. If only these people would just go read a book already, they would see that there really is a life out there, with some amazing things to see and do, and perhaps then, then they might realise that they could make a difference in their life time, and leave behind a legacy that made a difference to people’s lives, and not just bad memories in the minds of those that they inevitably leave behind.

What am I talking about? Well, this weekend I was in small town in Clare called Ennistymon, a lovely town actually, full of some very nice people with great fun and stories instilled in them – and some lovely pubs too. But it wouldn’t be a democratic society if we didn’t have one or two shagless fools to ruin what could be a wonderful town. Allow me to give you the scenario, via script ;

INT. DALY’S PUB --  NIGHT

DEL, an archetype male who is perhaps overly groomed for his surroundings walks into a small narrow pub – the walls are white and made of old rock but discoloured, the tiles on the floor are unkempt, the walls display old pub memorabilia and there is a new fangled jukebox on the wall that looks rather out of place.

The walk into the bar is a tight squeeze as countless people are stood around having a good time, and there are those that have been implanted at the bar since midday that are seemingly nonchalant about the necessity of fire exits, what have you. Music blares loudly as a DJ plays music from the current charts and this looks like a good spot to be in for the night.

DEL is accompanied by his, tonight it must be said, rather spectacular looking girlfriend, T, who is an (ex-)resident of the town, and is possibly dressed too finely for the institution they find themselves in.

They sit and have a drink and a laugh.

A DRUNK (cunt) at the bar, with a shaggy ginger beard, tightly cut ginger hair and an unflattering appearance spots DEL and T and begins to leer rather blatantly at T. This is accepted, ignored and mocked – quietly.

The young couple sit in their snug spot and drink some more, but...oh no...the drinks have run dry.

T goes to the bar to get in a round leaving DEL momentarily sat on his own.

*Cue Jaws theme music*

DRUNKY stumbles towards the table, one step carefully placed in front of the other so as not to spill the pint in hand (not looking unlike a geriatric at a buffet), with his gut hanging out. Bleary eyed he stares at the innocent DEL, who at this point now looks like a Zebra in the wilderness, but tries his hardest to display an exterior of indifference – the drunk too is indifferent, but towards DEL’S indifference.

The drunk stands at the gap between tables waiting for DEL to give up his seat.

DEL sits whistling a quiet impromptu tune looking about anywhere but in the direction of DRUNKY.

DRUNKY, becoming increasingly infuriated forces his way between the tables, drops his shoulder and quite physically shunts DEL from one end of the table to the other in one foul whoosh. DEL just smiles and ignores this ignorant infringement and sips at his non-existent drink from his see through empty glass tumbler, knowing that being from Dublin, not only will his accent give DRUNKY an allowance to hop him, but no one will step in to defend an “outsider” (home advantage matters!), so he keeps quiet (although he would ever so much like to react to the escalating situation).  

DRUNKY, not having attainted the reaction he so desired proceeds to flex his RIGHT BICEP in the face of DEL, in a rather primitive fashion (this possibly could be how fights are presented in a small town, much like a female panda bending over – but it could be a case by case thing...).

DEL still ignores this pretty funny, but at the same time slightly frightening suggestion, as you see, DEL is not a fighter, nor has he ever been in a fight (a fact displayed by his perfectly shaped nose – a curse of sorts), and tonight is going to be like all those other nights where he dodged punches or talked his way out of trouble, or, at least he hopes so.

DRUNKY, now aggrieved that DEL has not reacted favourably in a negative fashion and proceeds to bitterly spit out a slurred comment ;

DRUNKY:

I’d LUV taa geddup’ on that – hic’ ride thattt.

DEL sits still (hoping that if he doesn’t move, maybe DRUNKY won’t be able to see him – like a locked T-Rex) and smiles at T who is now stood at the bar staring back at this clearly threatening situation.

DRUNKY, having not achieved one thing in his life that he is actually capable of achieving, other than ordering a pint and wiping his arse (actually, the Jury may still be out on the latter, but still, a high achiever in the alcoholic waste of space stakes) reiterates his comment, but has altered the degree of English essential to get the negative comment across in case DEL is so much an “out-of-towner”, he possibly doesn’t even speak (pigeon) English.

DRUNKY: 

LUV ta fuk THATTttt….(incoherent slur/drunken hiccup)…TITSSsss.

T realising the situation asks a pretty female friend (thus stealing DRUNKY’s attention away by giving him something pretty to leer at, in close quarters) to intervene and sit between the quarrelsome (on one part) duo.

T arrives back at the table, the story of how DRUNKY stumbled from point A (at the bar) to point B (where they’re sat – a feat of sorts for this drunken dick-head) and tried to lure DEL into a situation beyond his abilities (his nose would like to stay in shape) is reiterated.

The drinks are floored, but not obviously – in case DRUNKY smells the fear, and the young couple make like DRUNKY’S social income – and disappear.

Walking out the door –

DEL (whispers): 

Dickhead.

-          and feels marginally better.

END

And that was it – that was my Saturday night out in Ennistymon (well actually, there was lots more – but it doesn’t make for entertainment as it was far too pleasant a time in a much nicer pub!). Reading this script back I guess I feel somewhat bad that I’ve labelled the small town for their drunken waster of an ambassador, when quite possibly I should be focusing on the drunken muppet in question solely, as this could be any town or city on a Saturday night, only well, it wasn’t, for you see it’s not a town that defines people, but rather, the people define a town, and with wasters like this just causing trouble for the sake of it, or because of their general unhappiness, towns should take a stance and disregard certain folk and allow them starve to death. It was only upon discussion later in the night that I learned this man is married and has three children, and automatically I didn’t feel so bad that he had been an arsehole to me, but that he is such an arsehole to his family – drinking away their money and giving them a poor image of what it is to be a grown-up, especially his sons, thus unfortunately, the realistic scenario is that I may well be back in this town in twenty years time, and instead of this drunk twat giving me grief, it will be his offspring.

I also had to assess what it was about me that he would want to inflict pain upon me. I mean, how can an unknown entity (me) cause such inner conflict within one person (Drunky) that they would want to react in a negative physical manner? “Maybe it’s my hair?” I thought – it is kind of styled and has a flippy-fringe thing going on these days – like a “boyband reject”, I’ve been told (gotta love honesty!). “Maybe it’s the t-shirt and shirt combo?” – some people aren’t fans of this style I know… Hmmm…was it solely that I was with one of the girls from this guys town that is prettier than most the girls in that neck of the woods? Really? Is that it? All it would take to risk a law suit (“If you hit me I’ll sue” – yeah, I’m just that cowardly I’d say that!) and put his family into financial disrepair? ... And the sad truth is that was it. Man’s primitive nature of lust takes hold, especially when he is a raging and unhappy alcoholic (is there any other kind?) and no man will stand in the way of that – especially if he has a flippy-fringe thing and a devoid sense of fashion going on, I guess, kind of a bonus to hit a guy like that even…”yeaaaah – the big gay woofter!!!”

(Side note : There were a gay couple of men (very sound guys) in the bar on this night that got zero hassle – and yet I got it...think I’d best re-evaluate my image!)

Fortuitously, I escaped without injury, and though this altercation would barely register as one, I do feel that people from small towns should try stamp out this behaviour. I mean, when a town is so full of fun, nice and genuine people, why should it get a poor reputation because of a handful of fucknuts? It wouldn’t be that difficult to rid themselves of em’ even – just close the pubs in the town and prohibit the sale of alcohol for a week, thus forcing the fuckers into melt down after they realise just how big a waste of skin they are...and don’t save them when they try to hang themselves or jump off the Cliff’s of Moher. Simples. The bonus? Not only would families be allowed progress and the town grow, but I might even be able to enjoy my drink next time – I hate having to neck/rush a drink....

Drunky.....you owe me a drink you bastard...ah, I’ll leave you off – you gave me a blog – have one yourself – you totally deserve it, ya big useless prick!!!

Civil Partnership, and the taboo thereof.

Question: What comes to mind when you think of four hundred camera flashes, enough fake tan to cover a small village, two hundred guests in want of beef or salmon, fifty eight jealous smiles/fifteen sets of crying eyes, a contract and two gold bands?

You’re thinking about marriage, right?

Wrong! HA! Trick question! No, I’m talking about Civil Partnership. Got you there!

Now you’re thinking “Well, they’re the same thing.”...and you’d be right, only, well, you’re wrong. The only other insignificant, if not irrelevant, difference between a marriage and a civil partnership is the religious ethos behind the life sentence incarceration of a couple...to one another, which in this day in age is pretty amusing given religion should even play a part in the lives of men and women when they’ve been out test driving potential partner(s) (FACT: Most people imagine they’ll marry at least two of their boyfriends/girlfriends)– so the sin of sex is a foregone conclusion, if not necessity to hook an unassuming male/female months, if not years, before the consummation of ones marriage.

Yes, this month will see the taboo that is Civil Partnerships be granted to gay Irish citizens, although, rumour has it, there has been at least one civil partnership initiated prior to the date of registry acceptance ; the male couple in question are said to have registered their partnership on 7^th February, 2011 as one of the party had a terminal illness and was thought not to make it the two months to registration – which proves one of two things ; men are as romantic as women – a shocking revelation(!), or just as big a Anna Nicole Smith’s (gold-diggers), and if you’re as big a pessimist as I, you’ll be thinking the latter...you heartless beast.

So what is all the kafuffle about? Men want to marry men. Women want to marry women. It’s pretty logical when you sit down and think about it. People perceive love, or what they think is love, and want to express it by defining their relationship in a reverse voyeuristic-typed event whereby they sign a legally (“our love is so hot baby, we gotta get the Government in on this shit”) binding document that will ensure their commitment to one another, or financially beleaguer them forever...and isn’t that what marriage is all about in the first place? So I say fair play to anyone who wishes to lock themselves to another for an indefinable period of time (a scary thought to say the least). If gay people wish to be as miserable as most married men and women, shouldn’t we let them off and wish them well? However you answer this question will tell you if you’re either;

(a) A homophobe ;

(b) A Bible wielding/fascist nut-job, or ;

(c) a person who is pretty indifferent to the whole thing,

and if you’re either (a) or (b), here’s a message, just for you ; the world is changing rapidly, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the cogs turning, so as my 3 year old nephew might put it – “nah-nah,nah-nah-nah”.

Look, here’s the skinny on marriage – it’s really not that big a deal from what I’ve seen of it, and there are two common beliefs associated to it, depending on your outlook ;

1.     Marriage is for those who wish to be with one another and have a family, or ;

2.     Marriage is the result of a mental defect whereupon people have been fooled by the chemicals of their brain that they love one person so much, they need to be with them (FOREVER! Eeek!), and have a family, which in essence is actually a trick of the mind that ensures the re-population of society.

See the way I said “person” above, which implies either a man or woman can love? Well, there you go. Do you question who it is that should love another person, be it man and woman, or man and man/woman and woman? No? Then shouldn’t men and women be allowed have the company of the same sex...legally? And that’s what marriage is – constant company throughout your life.

You watch T.V. together. Eat together. And if you’re really kinky, shower together (it conserves water!)...but that’s really it – you just do shit together – almost like having a best mate that you can relate to...and get you off into the bargain. And to be fair, if my best mate (from age 8) could get me off, I’d possibly wanna marry him – but alas, he just doesn’t “do” it for me in that sense, although, we never tried...maybe I’ve missed out on something? (Joke, John – don’t worry, you sexy bastard!).

What is the argument against gay marriage? Oh wait, sorry….”civil-partnership”? That it devalues archetype marriages? It’s against God? What? I’m not sure – but if the Catholic Church are against it, all I’m saying is, I’m all for it...whatever they dislike – I’m gonna love even more. Personally, I think they’re just a little jealous and frustrated that it’s now acceptable to be gay in society, and that they’ve wasted their lives locked up in the largest consolidated closet the world has ever known...with matching members collars.

Whilst watching The Late Late Show on Friday night (I actually only turned it on to see how Ryan (my pencil has more charisma) Tubridy would juggle such an anti-Catholic Church “taboo” subject, that, and to see Keith Barry get the shit slapped out of him (after ripping off a Derren Brown trick)) I spotted a male sat in the audience who clapped along with the rest of the audience at the end of the gay-civil-partnership-spiel, only to stop half way through his blind-follow-clapping to fold his arms and shake his “manly” head in disagreement with the whole thing. For me, he epitomises the response by the general public to the whole equation. People by nature want to see others happy, together and in love (unless you’ve previously been scorned by relationships – that, or had a variation of the clap yourself), but unfortunately, throw in the whole “God”/Religious Guilt thing and people aren’t so sure it’s the right thing, or should be allowed. Pah! Evidence that gay people aren’t wrong to love one another, but that religion is an evil entity that has driven people to incorrect conclusions...like it has done so many times in the past! Now, I’m not saying I enjoy seeing men kissing on street corners, but lets’ be fair, I don’t have a problem with women kissing on street corners, and on occasion have, in a rather juvenile fashion, guffawed for a moment and collected the image for my proverbial wank-bank. By this definition, acceptance of one sex kissing, I cannot disagree with males doing like wise, so I cannot say that homosexuality is wrong, but merely a decision, like, should I have white bread or brown bread? Kinda like marriage in a way? It may not be for you, or it could be the best thing to happen you...you useless fecker! Either way, it should not be seen as a big issue, but rather a joyous thing for people to enjoy...for a single day...and regret for a life time. I mean, who would want to exclude gay people from that? They have as much a right to be as miserable as the next person. Case closed.

Actually, wait a minute; perhaps marriage shouldn’t be a legal institution in the first place? Perhaps that’s the real issue. What place does Religion, Law or the Government have in the love and union of a couple? As the great (comedian) Doug Stanhope once said “If marriage didn’t exist, would you invent it? Nope – but if you don’t do it you’re an asshole”...and if you oppose Civil Partnership, and seeing people happy and in love (for however long), whatever the sex of the couple, you’re an even bigger asshole.