Look, we’ve all been there. You’re in the local pub over Christmas, trying to enjoy your few too many pints before heading back into the real world. All of a sudden, one of the following walking caricatures makes a beeline for you, stands between you and the bar and sobers you right up. Let’s have a look at some of these bastards.
The (Not-so) Private Investigator
“Well, how are you going? What are you at now? Are you still in the same place? What are you doing there now? And where is that then? Are you still at home? How’s everyone there? Did you do the long poc? Are you playing this year? What’s the brother up to anyways? Are ye Sean and Eileen’s kids? Where are they tonight? And where were you the night Old Man Reilly was murdered down by the creek? And do you have much time off over Christmas? Who’s that fella over there? Haven’t sees him here in ages. I’ll be back in a while there.”
Yeah, fuck off and stay over there man, I haven’t answered this many consecutive questions I didn’t want to answer since my fucking French oral!
That Prick/Bitch from school
Possibly the worst of the bunch. They swan over, all handshakes and hugs, smiles and kisses on the cheek and expect you to forget that they’re a piece of shit who you never liked.
“I assume you’re still living at home, yeah? I moved out last year, yeah, you should definitely do it. So much more freedom. Oh, you lived abroad for two years. Yeah, so you kind of get it so, yeah. We should definitely meet up though, haven’t seen you since school! Snapchat me!”
Yeah, I will in me fuckin’ hole snapchat you you dickhead.
There’s possibly nothing worse than being in the local pub and the failings of the previous season of Junior B are being dissected for the whole night. Most people get it. We’re here for pints and craic, not here to be told how shit we were and most definitely will be next year. The only thing that auld prick who talks about the glory days of Juior A in the ’70s is succeeding in doing is making you more defiant in your own talent and proud of your club. Before you know it, you’re definitely playing again next year and that bastard is smiling in the corner. Maybe that was his plan all along.
It’s half six on Stephen’s Day. Everyone’s quietly drunk and loudly resenting the winners of the long poc. Kids are running around and elderly couples sit by the fire, smiling at the generations mingling before them. As the evening grows darker and the families filter out, one man is on a different level. Moving seamlessly between groups he manages to amuse and annoy in equal measure. Singing songs at an abominable level out of key and making bad and dirty jokes, he weaves through the crowds, leading people to unanimously ask the question…”What fucking time did that eejit get here?”
If anybody’s reading this and they thought they had a great time flitting between groups and getting laughs from each of them, the reality is probably that that was you. And we were laughing at you, not with you.
The Coked up Guy That Nobody Knows
Scratch that. There is one person who’s laughing along with the drunkest guy in the room, and that’s the coked up guy that nobody knows. His stories are louder, his jokes are worse and he WON’T. FUCKING. LEAVE YOU ALONE. This motherfucker just will not take a hint and leave. He will pull stories out of his fecking arse to tell you. You know everything about him now. He has cursed you with the knowledge of his existence. He is the real scrooge.
The Life Coach
There’s a special place in hell for people that come into the pub and tell you what you should be doing with your life. I’m sorry, but have you seen where we are? We’re in the local on a Tuesday feckin night. I should be telling you what to do with your life. Let me start. Put down the fuckin gin and tonics and get a pint into your hand, good lad.
Sure look, I could go on and include the people returning from abroad in this list but I think five is a nice number to end on. I also am one of those people and I refuse to make fun of myself on Christmas. I know this has been done before but I feel mine is a bit more authentic than the same shite peddled year after year by different comedian pages on social media. You will for certain meet at least three of these people out over the next week or so. Be prepared, or be one of these people. Who knows which is worse?