Nick O'Flannigan stormed back into the pub from a legthy absense, and went back to the bar to relieve Jimmy, the shift bartender. In his right hand was a laquered wooden plaque with a small inscribed brass tag under a blank space. In his left was a hammer and a set of long nails.
"Oi Jimmy, shifts up," he said, obviously angry at something as he went behind the bar and began scouting a space to hang the plaque.
"Bout' feckin' time Nick," said Jimmy, "I tought' ye' was goin' teh' be gone feh' feckin' ever an' I'd be stuck servin' these pillocks all night!"
"Just feck off an' collect ye' pay from the till lad," Nick snapped back as he dragged a bar stool behind the bar to stand on.
Climbing onto the stool and balancing himself precariously, he began to nail the plaque to the wall. The brass tag had been crudely inscribed with the words...
HERE HANG THE BALLS OF THE MOLLY TRAITOR CIARAN QUINN
"Now I just got teh' get the fecker," Nick mumbled to himself as he hammered in the nails...
Quote:Dublin Miner: I am Gallic admiral earning money in Bretonia.