Saturday, May 14, 2011

Meet the Irish Fockers


Met up with the Girls last night for dinner and a few drinkies. Over the dinner table, the conversation got around to the various guys that we have brought home to meet our parents over the past few/many years!
Obviously none were successful, as we are all still single. We live in hope!
Prize for best story has to go to Fiona.
When she headed "up to Dublin" in 80's to go to college, it was still quite a rarity....and therefore a cause for an Irish Mammy to brag about, to all and sundry.
Fiona's attention was turned somewhat from her studies when she met "the love of her life". Was it a like-minded student, up-from-the-country, intent on forging a career and making it in the world/
Was it hell as like???
He was a college drop out (if he'd ever been there in the first place), long hair to his waist, yellowing fingers from years of smoking (despite the fact that he was only about 19) and not a prospect in sight! I'm not sure, but she may have met him near a homeless shelter! Just the type of guy every Irish Mammy wants her precious daughter to bring home.
But he was in a band!
Well maybe not exactly IN a band, but was going to be some day, when people began to appreciate how feckin' talented he really was, etc. etc. etc.
Which made him a god-like figure in Fiona's only recently opened Mullingar eyes! She decided to bring him home to meet her parents one weekend. She was so madly in love, she could not see any possibility of her parents not seeing beyond the veneer of .....grime(?) and recognising his genius, like she had done.
Big mistake!
When her mother laid eyes on him, she gave him a look that would wither a baby elephant at ten paces. Things didn't improve when he engaged in conversation with her father, extolling the benefits of dope-smoking. But the nail in the coffin was when he returned to the kitchen after a brief absence and exclaimed
""Hey man. That's a really useful ashtray. I've never seen one on the wall before. It's at the perfect height, no need to bend down".
"What are you talking about, young man", her mother retorted through pursed lips. "We have no ashtrays pinned to our walls".
Fiona's blood ran cold when she realised what he had done.
He had stood leaning against the jam of the front door, dragging on his cigarette....and dropping his ashes into........the Holy Water Font!!!

The weekend visit was cut short after that and they returned to Dublin.
I'd love to be able to say that he joined a rock band, took the world by storm, got rid of world debt and fed the starving millions.....because his name was Bono!
But was would be a big, fat lie!
No, reality is much more mundane. She continued to see him for a while but it soon fizzled out. And she thought long and hard before bringing anyone else from inside The Pale to visit her parents!

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