Drink Driving

Well there was a fair aul’ stir in town yesterday, Tommy. Only took me half an hour to get there in the tractor. No sign of any Guards. Anyway I got me few messages; beans were half price in Supervalu. Bought two dozen. Them fuckin’ tins are only half filled with beans anyway. I remember a time when a tin would last me a day and a half. Down to Reillys with me then and didn’t I bump into the Hanrahans: Paudie and Marty. I had five pints and then a brandy and port for the road. Coming out the door the air hit me and I felt a bit woozy right enough but I remembered where I parked the tractor and I managed to walk along the edge of the footpath without falling. I was the grandest. Sure any man that’s not fit to drive after a few drinks is only a girl's blouse.
It’s past time they incorporated drink driving into the rural driving test anyway. If they tested everyone once every two years on it and gave you a certificate to say you were safe to drive after a few pints then you could show that to the barman and the Guards if they stopped you. The barman would give you the number of drinks it said on the cert if you were driving.If the Guards stopped you they could test you to see had you any more drink on you.

On the way to the tractor I bumped into Guard Hughes.
‘Howaya Larry, are you ready for the Christmas.?’
‘Am I fuck!……. how are all the Hughes' keeping?’
He was telling me his mother Maggie has a bad dose of the shingles.
I danced her in the good old days: she was a great goer on the dance floor, but slow enough at everything else.
Anyway I drove home in twenty minutes, I felt like I was flying. What a feeling! Operation freeflow is working. Never mind what that shower of fuckin’ whingers above in Dublin are saying. Always fuckin moanin’ they’re as soft as loose shite up there. Any news up your side Tommy?