Overheard: Standing on a Corner in Dublin.

"Philip? Is that you?"

"Yes. Do I know you?"

"Jim, Jim Grouse. From St. David's. I was in your class."

"Ah, yes, I have you now. Your hair isn't red anymore."

"I know, it's hardly even there anymore."

"I hear you, Jim. It's a pain in the arse."

"Stop; how have you been? Still married?"

"No, she fucked off a couple of years ago."

"Why?"

"I told her to."

"You were always decisive, I'll give you that."

"That's one word for it, Jim. Are you still married?"

"No, I lost my wife last year."

"Oh, sorry to hear that; you were close, weren't you?"

"Outwardly, we were. She wanted everyone to think it was a bed of roses, but it wasn't."

"I never even suspected that it wasn't, Jim; what was going on?"

"I caught her in bed with one of her workmates a few years ago, Phil; I couldn't let it go."

"Who's bed?"

"Our bed, she was sitting on his face with his cock down her fucking throat."

"Maybe she had a sore throat, and he was taking her temperature."

"Ha-Ha. Maybe so. They don't need thermometers where she's gone now, though."

"We jest, but I'm sorry you had to go through that, Jim. Did you not ever try your luck elsewhere?"

"Funny enough, I went with a couple of escorts, Phil. I didn't want to get into the drama of a relationship with another female."

"It's cheaper than a divorce, Jim."

"Or a wedding, or the therapy when stuff goes wrong."

"How did the escort thing go?"

"I did it twice, the second time to apologise."

"Ha-ha. Good one."

"I'm serious; I couldn't get it up the first time."

"Why not?"

"The fucking stress, it was awful."

"Did you manage it the second time?"

"Yes, it was great."

"How so?"

"She let me do anything I wanted."

"But you paid her for that, didn't you?"

"Yes, but even still, it felt like I was degrading her, and I didn't want to do that."

"Did she complain?"

"No, we had a good chat and a good laugh afterwards."

"Maybe you only felt the degradation in yourself."

"Possibly, but do you know what it felt like, Phil, and you'll think I'm mental when I tell you this."

"No."

"It felt like the time I got my first ride down in Mosney."

"At Butlin's?"

"Yes. After the disco, on the diving board of the outdoor pool."

"Were you self catering or full board?"

"Full board, my mother was a terrible cook. She couldn't boil water."

"We went full board a few times too."

"Were you House of Slane or House of Tara?"

"Tara, my father preferred the second sitting."

"Yeah, it was first up best fed in our house, so we always went Slane."

"That disco was a pain in the arse, though."

"Great for the women, Phil."

"My first ride down there was during the Glamorous Granny Contest in the ballroom."

"That was your first ever ride?"

"No, it was my first ride in Butlin's."

"Where was your first ride?"

"At a party in Josser's house."

"Who was it?"

"Fuck, I think her name was Annabelle or something like that."

"What was her surname?"

"Fucked if I know, Jim. Why?"

"My sister, Annabelle, went to all those parties."

"It wasn't your sister; this one was a right little ride; everyone was at her."

"So, who did you ride at the Glamorous Granny Contest? Was she under seventy?"

"She wasn't a contestant, Jim. I was swimming in the indoor pool the night before, and I was with this bird from Belfast. She wanted me to finger her in the pool, so I brought her over to the big viewing windows so that the lads in the snooker hall could watch."

"Is that not unsanitary?"

"No, the tables had just been cleaned."

"I don't mean that; I mean for the rest of the swimmers."

"I gave her a load of swimmers for herself the next day, Jim. Know what I mean?"

"I think I do, Phil. The pool in Butlin's were always full of swimmers, too."

"I know, so was the floor in Dan Lowry's."

"Ah, Dan Lowry's, the filthiest pub in Ireland."

"Remember the Bonnie Baby Contest?"

"Yes, all those alliterated titles, they were funny."

"Babies wearing fake tan."

"It wasn't even invented then."

"I know, it was fake, but it was definitely tan."

"It didn't come out of a tube either."

"And the smell?"

"Gross!"

"I remember the Lovely Legs Contest. You'd sit on the floor in front of the stage, hoping for a glimpse of a snatch when they pulled their skirts up."

"That would've been a good one, a Savoury Snatch Contest."

"Or a Pretty Pussy Contest."

"Or a Tasty Twat Contest."

"They should've had a Gross Granny Contest, too."

"Yes, and an Ugly Uncle Contest."

"I thought they did?"

"No. He was the compere."

"An Angry Aunt Contest."

"Yes, a Big Boobs Contest."

"They'd need to provide a Tiny Tits Contest nowadays, for political correctness."

"I'd pay to see that."

"Me too."

"And a Mangled Minge Contest for the swingers."

"Or a Quivering Quim Contest for the sexually deprived."

"Or a Contented Cunt Contest for the recently orgasmed."

"Or a Knobbly Knees Contest."

"They had one of those, did they? Your mother won that."

"No, she didn't, that was for men."

"Nobody knew the difference then."

"I'd better be off, see you around, Jim."

"All the best, Phil."