THE ELECTRIC GIGALO

Honestly, who came up with the term 'Quiet drink?' We all know it doesn't exist. It's like one of those euphemisms designed to lessen the impact of the drama of what it really entails. It's like you saying "I'll be back in a minute" when we know you mean "I'll see you when Tibet is free," or saying differently-abled when we know you mean cappers. Oopsie, going to hell for that one.

Our newbie flatmate Canuck Ellie - yes another bloody Canadian, I dunno I must smell like moose or something - suggested I join her for a pint, so I went down to the Le Cheile. Ellie has been in cork for quite a while, some six years or so, so she's morphied into quite the dialectal hybrid. Which means she won't say "c*nt" but she'll end all of her sentences with "do you know" (pronounced j'unno) and throw in a "like" for good measure too. J'unno like? So a pint was had, and then onto the Newport beer garden for another pint. We talked about who we know who's gay and who's not.
"You can tell, like a gay guy from a mile off, j'unno?"
"Can you?"
"Yeah It's easy when you're a girl, like, j'unno?"
"Well then," I said, purely to test her of course:"How can you tell I'm not gay?"
"Aw Kevvy, like," she says, "you're not gay... j'unno.You have that... sort of... horny electricity... j'unno?"
I couldn't help looking down at my crotch.
"What, can you see it?"
Horny electricity? What the hell is that? I wondered privately that if I stuck my willy into the battery compartment of a CD player could I make it work? Perhaps I should experiment with this physical aspect of myself I never knew I had. Imagine Donna coming back from Dublin to find me trying to rodger her iPod. Also, how much light could I produce by making sweet love to a shaft of a torch?
"Horny electricity?" Says I, "well tell you what, rub this up and down and see if balloons will stick to you."

Then we went onto L.V's for another drinkie-poo. There, out of the blue, I bumped into three fellas from school, two of whom I hadn't seen in almost ten years I'd say. They were there for the L.V's 'Craichouse' comedy night, doing some stand-up would you believe. So more booze flowed, and things got blurrier and blurrier. The acts were class, fair play to the lads; Ellie got a big kick out of them, except at Colin Ryan's version of "Sunday Bloody Sunday", retitled "Tampon bloody tampon." In fact, Ellie's face was as funny as the act itself.
A quiet drink? pah! The beers were drained as was my 'horny-electricity'. Which is virtually on permanent power-cut anyway.