Sitting in Big Pat's last night having our pre-weekend toke and watching some shite programme on UTV. On this particular show, there was a pub called 'The Spread Eagle'.
'If you owned a pub', he asked, 'what would you call it?'
That one caught me. All the usual shite runs through your head, like the King's Head, the Queen's Blurt, whatever. Then it came to me.
'The Dirty Muckle', I said. Think about it. Saying to your mates, 'Right, I'll meet you in the Dirty Muckle about eight', or, 'the two of us were down in the Dirty Muckle earlier'. You'd have no end of craic.
Of course, if it was near the seaside, I'd call it 'The Fishy Quim'.
I love stoned conversations.
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That reminds me of the time I was on a bus going to a Faithless concert - I was getting a lift to Dublin - and this boy behind me was a surly fucker who didn't say a word all journey. Then he lit up a spliff, and suddenly I became his very best friend in the whole world.
Now who says drugs don't work?
Dario,
I'm a firm believer in cannabis in moderation. The social effects of it are nothing when compared to alcohol.
Oh yeah, I know exactly what you're saying. There's a ridiculously introverted dude up in UCD, but give him a few pints and he's Casanova.
There was a guy just like when I was at Uni. We called him 'Velcro Sleeve'.
Reminds me of having stoned 'what would you call your rock band?' conversations way back when.
Inspired partly by seeing a crap band in San Francisco called Drunk - "Hello, Santa Cruz, we're DRUNK!!!" - I always liked the idea of playing in a band called Free Drugs.
You can see the posters already, can't you? "Ulster Hall Friday Night - FREE DRUGS!"
The queue at the door would be longer than the line for Bestie's funeral.
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