I went down to the pub last night.
I met Spanner who is an old friend of mine. He is the local mechanic, but can turn his hand to most things.
"Down for your Paddy’s Day drink?" he said.
"Nah! Just a pint. I don’t hold with any of that Paddy’s Day bollox. It’s just an excuse to get us all mad on drink, and for the politicians to fuck off abroad and spend our money having a fancy holiday for themselves."
"True enough. We haven’t seen much of you in here lately?"
"Busy, my arse. You just sit up in that cottage doing fuck all. What have you been at?"
"Writing the book."
"I thought you had given up on that. What’s it about anyway?"
"Nothing much. Just life in the village."
"Jayzus! Am I in it?"
"Of course you’re in it. Everyone is in it. All my friends, neighbours, enemies and relations."
"For fuck’s sake, you’ll be sued down to hell and back."
"Nah. I’ve changed the names slightly. Anyway, you can’t be sued for telling the truth."
The colour of Spanners face nicely matched the colour of the head of his pint. "But you can’t write about… You can’t mention… Fuck! You have. Haven’t you?"
"Shit! We’re finished."
"Don’t worry about it," I said. "It’s being sold as a work of fiction."
He thought about that for a moment.
"I suppose I’d better be nice to you so?"
"It would help," I said, draining my pint.
"You’ll have another pint?" said Spanner.
"I will," I said. "Make it a large one."