Back in the sixties, the Irish playwright Sean O’ Faoilain remarked that an Irish queer is a man who prefers women to drink. He hit a few nails on the head with this wry observation. The mentality of the Irish man is that your strength and toughness are defined by how easily and readily you consume alcohol. Being a ladies’ man without getting blind drunk and shagging the ugly fat chicks in the process, is not something which is regarded as “manly”. How you handle the “pint” is also a point of acclaim and a veritable badge of honour. You will hear in hush tones in quiet old pubs how Paddy Hughes can “put away” sixteen pints of the black stuff and ne’er a bother on ‘im. We are suspicious of men who cavort and charm, while only sipping on a glass of champagne for two hours. And more to the point, what sort of a man drinks champagne?
Beyond The Drink
Tales from near and far
It’s been a frustrating week on the poker tables. I have been haemorrhaging cash on all sides and finding it difficult to keep any sort of traction and momentum going. I’ve just finished playing for nearly six hours and have been dunked out of two massive tourneys online with nothing to show for it but a whole load of expletives. It has been a case of one or two bad decisions, mixed with a horrendous run of bad luck. It’s a tough game and it’s made all the tougher when luck goes against you. Poker is a big release for me and when it goes wrong I find myself shrinking into a deep, dark spot. There is no alcohol to drag me out of this, so it means I have been facing myself every day with nothing to cover the wrinkly down turned lines on my face. I see myself for the bushy haired, balding, softly sagging man that I am. Gambling is emotional and losing opens sore pores. I’m not a happy camper.
Three days in the Gold Coast (Sober Paddy Edit)
I have just spent three days up in the Gold Coast in Queensland. For those who haven’t been, it is an area full of high rise hotels and apartments overlooking golden coastline as far as the eye can see. It sums up the great and the tacky about Australia. Beautiful beaches and people, mixed with outrageous commercial properties and nightlife. There are water parks and rollercoaster’s twenty minutes drive away. There are nightclubs and casinos for the discerning gentlemen and ladies of the night. There is surf and sun and swimming pools for those who want to just want to chill.
Porn, passion and porter
The Irish man is a puzzling creature. We baffle people sometimes. We confuse ourselves most of the time. We love to have a laugh at our own expense or anyone else’s for that matter. We have a wild streak which is natural and honest. We take life relatively easily and carefree. As a Paddy with a piss potation problem, I know how we love to celebrate everything with booze. We love to lacquer the various trimmings of life with gallons of intoxicating liqueurs. Sure our Taoiseach (Prime Minister) is a booze hound of Boris Yeltsin proportions.
India, Dublin and the Roosters..with a little bit of booze.
It is not the first time for me to give up drinking. I find myself in the similar position to many smokers over the years – it’s not a problem giving up, it’s staying off the cigarette that’s the stickler. I have tried it in my halcyon days around the turn of the millennium. It wasn’t too difficult as I substituted drink with pills, nicotine and caffeine
Pain in my ring
I have a pain in my ring. I suppose it could be construed as frustration. I am out of sorts and I can’t really put my finger on it. Well, that’s a bit of a porkie pie, I am angry at a few things. In the past at this stage I would be in the boozer telling all and sundry what I felt. But I won’t give myself the chance to get pissed. So I just try to deal with things as best I can and move on. So what’s eating the Sober Paddy?
The first is