Aidan O'Sullivan is a man who likes the accoutrements associated with one of his academic status. His belly top, bright pink zoot suit and leopard skin wellies say everything about his position on the rickety ladder of education.
So it came as little surprise when we were in his saltwater garage and he whipped away an enormous blanket of romaine lettuce to reveal his latest purchase - the new Ford V8 Crustacean.
'What happened to your old Codmobile,' I asked.
'It was getting a bit battered,' he replied (baa-dum-tish.) 'This new baby runs on garlic butter, has a fuel injected omega 3 engine and the ABS anchor comes as standard.'
We then went for a spin, playing Daniel O'Donnell up full blast and shouting expletives at all the barristers wandering the Dublin streets in their wigs, gowns and space hoppers.
On dismounting from the vehicle we both experienced an embarrasing problem . . . a problem which Aidan decided to solve by grinding his nether regions against the wing mirror. 'It's a great car,' he said, 'but be-the-hokey, the upholstery is covered in crabs!'
Call me old-fashioned but I prefer to catch crabs in the traditional fashion (and I don't mean with a pot!)
The blogger hurried home through the darkening evening, through empty city streets, his coat buttoned up tightly against the chill, damp mist that drifted up from the river. (Witnesses said afterwards that he looked worried, nervous, glancing behind him all the time as if concerned.) The mist changed to a drizzle, that made the cobblestones slippy underfoot, treacherous...one could easily fall.
ReplyDeleteThere it was, that noise again - of footsteps made by one who was moving stealthily after him. He was definitely being followed he thought, he scurried on - a feel of grim foreboding came over him....
'Hmm . . . I think that grim feeling is merely the lasagne I had for breakfast,' said the handsome Blogger, 'And lucky I'm wearing my Vibram soled boots, so there's no chance of me slipping! And as for that sense of being followed - O Sullivan , come out of that waste bin, I know your hiding in there.'
ReplyDelete'No I'm not!' squeaked a Wicklow accented voice from the bin.
'You are,' said the Blogger fearlessly.
'I'm a hibernating mouse who loves filth!' Came the reply.
'Oh please yourself,' said the Blogger before returning home to a delicious dinner and warm fire leaving Aidan to lick choc-ice wrappers for sustenance.