Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Those pesky Vikings.
I was meeting the gang from Turkey for dinner in Dublin city center yesterday evening. In honour of the occasion I wore the fab-u-lous shoes I bought there last holiday. I know they look totally impractical and torturous, but in actual fact they are very comfortable.
Because there is a built-in platform, your foot is not at as steep an angle as it appears. Also they are lined with some magical material that makes them feel like a glove. Score!
Anyway I was strolling down Dame Street in the evening sunshine on the way to the restaurant. Suddenly I heard a chorus of blood-curdling screams and hollers just behind me. Knocked out of my stride, I went into a little bit of a wobble but thankfully managed to regain my balance, preventing me from hitting the pavement.
I turned around to see one of those open topped Viking buses, full of tourists in ridiculous horned helmets,yelling and waving plastic axes at me.
The driver had a microphone in his sweaty little hand and grandly announced in his thick Dublin accent, to the marauding crowd on the bus and to all the passing pedestrians
"Ah here Luv. Mind ya don't fall off yer kitten heels!"
Much guffawing ensued.
Now I felt like giving them the finger, but hey, we still need the tourists' money! So I waved cheerfully back to them, through gritted teeth, and sent them on their merry way.
As if it wasn't bad enough that them Vikings came over and raped and pillaged their way through our little country but now they are terrorising poor innocent dames as they totter their way down the street, minding their own business.
Forget about Garth Brooks.
BRING BACK BRIAN BORÚ!