In the words of the great Rod Stewart (not actually his words but so eloquently performed by him, not to mention the ridiculous bass from Ron Wood, but that’s for some other blog);”seems like a long long time” & by-Jaysus it has been! Good Lord it’s been at least wha? 6 months? Did you ever think in yer life such an insane G-drought would take hold? A drought of biblical proportions this. Those widgety cans just don’t cut it any longer, I needed the real-deal; a thirst-quenching, creamulicious, solid pint of The Good BlacknWhite. The post-lockdown new normal for all Irish garglers is: book a table in the pub, order food with a minimum value of five shillings (yes, hilarious as it seems, it’s actually true (Intoxicating Liquor Act, 1962)) & then, & only then, can you hit the G-trough, & man oh man was I ready to slurp from that trough!
So, with the lockdown finally lifted, & the pubs dishing out the pints again, I managed to sneak a few hours to book a table. Now, you only have 1.5 hours to hammer those G’s so you need to be on the G-train as soon as you sit down. We were bursting to order but you can’t actually go up to the bar in the new normal, you have to wait at the table to be served & the bloody bar girl was away off somewhere. Couldn’t she feel the anguish, the pent up G-need? I had a mouth like a badgers-arse & the G-sweats were coming on; I could smell the pints all around but I couldn’t yet partake, it was 60 seconds of hell… before we got her attention & the wait was on. The past 6 months was all coming to a head a this very moment as we waited for their arrival.
Jayz, I could have been sick I was gagging so hard for the Goodness as she settled down in front of me. She looked thick enough & I wasn’t gonna waste a second on a wobble-test, I needed her in me immediately so I just went for it. A soft yet solid lip-flop that had me salivating hard, followed by a serious gulp-gargle & an emotional G-sniff of that good old Guinness aroma; black & creamy. She was cold, with a bit o’the cream, as she should be; she was my salvation from lockdown, my G-motional rescue. There may well have been a tear as my mouthnthroat reacquainted itself with it’s former love; wholly understandable, given the circumstances.
It was exactly what I wanted & what all of us G-punters deserve at this stage. These were tasty solid numbers that you could gargle on all night; the minimum you should expect form any self-respecting public house. Unfortunately, we only had a bloody hour n a half so we had to get horsing, and, of course, we happily obliged.