Life

The Wounded Celtic Cub Expose

 'You're the one that I want, oo-oo-oo, honey the one that I want, oo-oo-oo, honey the one that I want'

As I lifted my head I could smell the absolute ran-sit decay of a successful night. My breath ricocheted off the pillow and into my gaping mouth. Thought #2, what is that racquet? Who in 2014 sets their alarm as a Copper's classic. Bloody ridiculous. I swiveled around in the bed and smacked the alarm off. My eyes began to retain focus and I soon recognised the room I had inhabited. Lucy's spare..

Pick up the Iphone (5 in case you were wondering), one new text message from Rob Masterson aka Robbo: 'Fran, meet me and Rocko for coffee, Wham Cafe 1pm... need filling in on last night, absolute Rob Carnage"

That text made me feel a bit better, at least the boys are singing from the same hymn sheet. I 'halo' a taxi to wherever I left the four wheels last night  and slip out of Lucy's unnoticed.


Luce the goose on the shots

So let me introduce myself, the name is Francis Thomas Royce aka FTR (F**K the recession) and I'm a certified lifer as in do well at life if you get me. The house I woke up in was Lucy's who I've been seeing a bit on nights out recently but to be honest at this stage I think she's just using me for the free taxi home which I really don't mind as long as I'm welcome to Boom City, as I call it. Sure that's for another day's chat ey. Well anyone I'm approaching Wham now so i'll chattoya.

"Honestly Rocko it's no wonder you can't remember last night, you were up on the table in VIP drinking the goose as if you were an African baby discovering water for the first time" Robbo's on a roll I'm thinking " and right the bouncer tries to get you down, but you're having absolutely none of it you gas merchant"

The 6.8/10 waitress approaches the table, reading the body language of the boys I take the order upon myself, "3 low fat caps when you're ready and honey make sure they're absolutely piping hot, good on you", I turn back to the boys and they nod in approval, just what's needed.

Advertisement

Robbo is talking about my childhood confidant David Rock AKA Rocko, he's absolute barmy on a night out and nothing I'll hear will surprise me. I wouldn't be shocked to hear he has an endorsement deal with Grey Goose AKA 'the goose'.

I turn to the boys and I'm like "here all jokes aside boys, you know, I've to meet Jessica tomorrow to hold peace talks. Like she fully thinks we're Churchill and Hitler at this stage and its bloody wrecking my head"

Robbo and Rocko both take the BANTER down a notch realising the grave situation and Robbo, always the sensible thinker, asks "does she know you stayed at Lucy's last night? If so, absolute damage control required"

I shake my head in approval, I mean yeah its true Miss Spin (AKA Jessica)and I have been broken up for quite a while now but her and 'The Luce' do not see boob to boob and Robbo is bloody right; damage control is required here.

The bill gets dropped to the table and like a cowboy shootout the cards from all of three of us are out, we'll let the waitress choose who's paying..

"Aright boys I gotta make like an egg and scramble, Dad's home for the weekend and I've missed the old bugger" I dismiss the boys and hop into the motor.

Quick briefing on my Dad. His name's Bob Owen Royce (he's an addict for these double barrel names). He's an absolute inspiration to me, in fact he's one of the reasons I'm a non practicing solicitor. Well technically I'm on garden leave while a case gets sorted out which by the way is a great story but I'll tell you about it later if you know what I mean. He's a solicitor or ex-solicitor, now barred, who got his hands a little dirty and is fighting a few fraud allegations. Anyways he's back from the UK, where he's currently living, for the weekend. Declared bankrupt there to save a whole load of David Hassle-off. As he said to me at the time 'bankrupt son, but only in name' and with that let out his signature chuckle.

Advertisement

"Ah Fran, home 8 hours and you finally make an appearance?" Dad asks me keeping his eyes stuck to The Times yet to look up at me.

I give him a slap on his bald head and tell him to stop reading that shite about him in the papers but he absolutely loves it. He fully thinks he's a celebrity when really he's in all these papers for multiple fraud allegations. He fully wants to set up a twitter page for himself the absolute gas merchant.

"Fran, this is gas, they've given me a front page and a 2 page spread inside, and more importantly 2 possible twitter names" a smile beaming across his face " here what do you think of 'Bail Out Royce' or wait for it even better 'The Wolf of the Four Courts'. Apparently that's some reference to some young shot from across the pond"


Churchill looking like the old man coming out of his bankruptcy hearing

I'm in tears laughing here. His banter is top notch. That's enough for now anyway peeps and with that I'll sign off- The Wounded Celtic Cub-OUT.

 

 

 

Andrew O'Reilly

You may also like