I went down to the pub for a pint last night.

Pullit served me my pint, and I lit up the pipe.

"Were you listening to that shower saying their goodbyes to Bertie?" he asked.

"That shower of hypocritical sycophants? No chance!"

That confused him a bit, as I keep forgetting he doesn’t do the Irish Times crossword, but he got the gist.

"What do you think about the latest thing to cut down drinking?" I asked.

He sighed.  "Another fucking law.  They can stuff it up their arses."

"So you’re not going to install CCTV then?"

"I am in my hole!"

"A good place," I replied.  "Now’s your chance to install one in the ladies jax."

"Hah! I hadn’t thought of that one.  Good thinking, Grandad."

"And what about their sting operation?  Sending kids in to order drinks so they can trap you?"

"Jayzus! Where are they going to find sixteen year old Gardai?  Anyway if some kid came in here dressed in a Garda uniform, I think I’d spot him."

Just then, nine year old Jimmy came in for his granny’s nightly takeaway of a pint of Guinness, so Pullit stabbed out his cigarette and went to serve him.

I feel sorry for the people in the cities, having to put up with all these crazy laws.