Killaloe Social

Because of the shop we owned there was never really anytime the ould lad, me Ma and myself ever socialised together. Me and the ould lad would get together, or me and me Ma would have a couple of scoops. So it was a surprise when the ould lad accosted me in the shop one evening.

“Got tickets for the Hurling social today” says he
“I’ll mind the shop then” says I
“No I got three tickets and I am closing the shop early and we are all going” says he

Well, I checked for pigs in the sky and for any other sign of mental instability, finding none, I contented myself with staring at him stupidly. I mean FFS the ould lad shutting the shop early was totally unheard of.

“Well, you coming” says he
Speechless, I nodded my head.
“Good, it was your mother’s idea and she is not taking no for a fecking answer “ says he

I knew it wasn’t his idea, but I was really looking forward to it was going to be a blast.

Suited and booted and me Ma looking particularly fine in her best going to mass dress we set off for Killaloe for a night of good food, good music and great Craic. The meal was ok not great but filling enough and the wine flowed pretty good as well. Settling back I noticed the usual suspects were already propping up the bar and you didn’t need the skills of Columbo to deduce that things could get pretty lively later.

I settled in my seat as the dancing started and as usual the older generation was first to the floor. I marvelled at the two left feet of the ould lad as he tried to look suave and sophisticated escorting me Ma in his particular version of the Waltz. Just then one of the finer damsels of the village decided to lower her standards and talk to me.

We were alone at the table exchanging pleasantries when I heard a distinct rumble from the dance floor and as that was not particularly unusual at these social gatherings and the wee girl was warming to my erudite ramblings, I ignored it.

That was until the ould lad landed on the table and shot off in between us clearing the cutlery and glasses in his path. He got up and dusted the leftover turkey off his aging tux.

“Ger, with me NOW” he roared

As the ould lad strode purposely back to the source of his demise, I girded my loins and bid the wee girl goodbye and followed him into the melee. Well you had to admire his persistence as he flew past me going backwards, his arms giving a damn good impression of the backstroke. FFS was he losing his touch. Then I saw the source of his backward propulsion.

It was the Kelly brothers. They were three of the meanest, hardest pieces of Shite that it was anyone’s misfortune to come across and they were in the mood for destruction. The funny thing was that they seemed to be concentrating on only one thing…. the ould lad.

The crowd on the dance floor had parted into a sort of semi circle and were not in any mood to get involved. Where was my mother? Anyway the ould lad had regained his feet and was in the mood for some more. Time to get involved.. the problem was there was probably no way I would take one of these feckers don’t mind fecking three of them. But FFS he was me Da and as he passed me about to take them all on I joined him in his primeval charge.

I weighed in at around 17st those days and was a fit little fecker and the ould lad wasn’t far behind me in the heavy stakes. Now, me and the ould lad seemed to have the one mind as we both hit Mikey Kelly together at full pelt. He went down with a whoosh as all his god given air was battered out of him. He was out of commission for a wee while.

As I skidded to a halt I grabbed a chair and swung at Petey Kelly, and being a slow witted sort of fecker, he forgot to duck. As he began his slow fall to temporary incapacitation I wheeled around to see what assistance I could give to the ould lad and quickly saw that it was P J Kelly that was in requirement of assistance.

The ould lad was astride his chest with his fists swinging like a metronome as he smacked P J’s head from side to side. I pulled him off not to save P J, he deserved all he got, but because Mikey Kelly had now recovered sufficiently to begin to entertain thoughts of continuing.

Now Mikey was huge, and I mean fecking huge and as it had taken the two of us to knock him to the ground, I sure as feck wasn’t going to tackle him on my own.

We squared up Father and Son side by side ready for whatever he could bring. I looked at the ould lad and I swear he was smiling, relishing the upcoming encounter. 

Mikey suddenly stopped his forward motion, seemed to stand still for a couple of seconds and then fell forward in a heap grabbing his shoulder in pain. As he fell we could see the cause of his anguish, behind him stood on a chair was me Ma with a bottle of cheap plonk in her hand held by the neck.

I went over to my Mother and said.
“WTF was that all about”
“They insulted his dancing and as usual he sought satisfaction” says she “now help me down off of this fecking chair”
I did not voice the fact that they probably had a point

The wee girl had taken flight, not surprisingly really as she was their sister.. More on her another time