Don't drink the water..
The nutter wheezes out some kind of spahgetti mish mash,
of long fermented wisdom burnt brittle,
and too long on the ambers of adversity.
Spittle sprayed gristle churning away under a yapping chin,
toothless lips drawn to the bone as if being sucked into
the black hole within.
"looks like the yield's going to be good this year,' he declares,
with all the confidence of a hermit octopus sending out a weary tentacle.
I nod back wondering what yield he might be referring to, sitting down to drink at the graduate
in the leafy suburb of Killiney South of Dublin.
"...The grain," he continues,
" is going to be good - it's the tractors these days- more like factories all on their own!"
His eyes never settle on mine but always return to catch them for a millisecond,
about a thousand times a minute I sware,
searching for agreement,and then darting away ready for the ridicule.
'So... he's soft in the head then,' is my immediate call.
The barmans smug look tells me it's going to be a long one - this conversation of ours,
with the first Irishman I meet in Ireland - and he's not right in the head!
So he tells me that TV is a conspiracy to keep the kids dumb,
and that the Martello towers are making every one insane because they're keeping the sewage
from flowing out to sea - "Don't be drinking the water by the sea over here son!" he says
"It'll drive you mad it will!"
And yes, you know what I'm thinking " well how much have you had to drink old mate,"
is squirming in my head itching for release.
For two hours I exercise my neck and agree and empathise and mm- hmmm and uh- huh,
The arrogant stinking son of a ***** that I am!!
But he thinks I'm the nicest goddam fellow he'd met in a while - a real kindred spirit!!
So finally I use inebriation as an excuse to escape and i find my way out into the chill of an Irish night.
Numbed by the alcohol and nonsense I stamble on down to Killiney bay where
the sea just lays down to shore - no waves, it just lies there like a cold accepting whore,
and I see looming large - the silhouetted unmistakeable shape of some forgotten martello tower
on Dalkey Island.
And I see another drunkard leaning up against it,
and he's laughing hysterically and then he's crying uncontrollably, swaying and swearing and singing!
And I shout out to help the poor afflicted soul now being qualified and ordained to do so,
I says, " don't be drinking the water by this sea mate -it'll drive you mad it will!!"
And he stops his braying and slides a look my way as if to acknowledge my great truth,
my great revelation,
and he whispews a slurred thanks - and with that, grinning inanely at each other we both topple to the hard ground and pass out.
The nutter slept in bed that night...
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Originally Posted by Dr Eep
did I really just read that?
