About the Book
Two men meet for a pint – or two – in a Dublin pub. They chew the fat, set the world to rights, curse the ref, say a last farewell … In this second collection of delicious comic dialogues Doyle’s drinkers ponder:
a topless Kate Middleton
Barack and Michelle Obama (‘fuckin’ gorgeous’)
David Beckham (‘Would you tattoo your kids’ names on the back of your neck?’ ‘They wouldn’t fit’)
Jimmy Savile (‘a gobshite’)
the financial crisis (again)
abortion (again)
and horsemeat in your burger …
Once again, those we have lost troop through their thoughts – Lou Reed, Seamus Heaney, Reg Presley, Nelson Mandela (‘he should never have left the Four Tops’), Phil Everly, Margaret Thatcher, Shirley Temple – and they still have that unerring ability to ask the really fundamental questions like ‘Would you take penalty points for your missis?’
About the Author
Roddy Doyle was born in Dublin in 1958. He is the author of eleven acclaimed novels including The Commitments, The Snapper, and The Van, two collections of short stories, Rory & Ita, a memoir about his parents, and most recently, The Guts. He won the Booker Prize in 1993 for Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha.
ALSO BY RODDY DOYLE
Fiction
The Commitments
The Snapper
The Van
Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha
The Woman Who Walked Into Doors
A Star Called Henry
Oh, Play That Thing
Paula Spencer
The Deportees
The Dead Republic
Bullfighting
Two Pints
The Guts
Non-Fiction
Rory & Ita
Plays
Brownbread
War
Guess Who’s Coming for the Dinner
The Woman Who Walked Into Doors
The Government Inspector (translation)
For Children
The Giggler Treatment
Rover Saves Christmas
The Meanwhile Adventures
Wilderness
Her Mother’s Face
A Greyhound of a Girl
Brilliant
To my father, Rory Doyle
December 8th, 1923 – March 16th, 2014
Two More Pints
Roddy Doyle
PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF CANADA
Copyright © 2014 Roddy Doyle
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Published in 2014 by Alfred A. Knopf Canada, a division of Random House of Canada Limited, and simultaneously in the United Kingdom by Jonathan Cape, a division of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc., London, both Penguin Random House Companies. Distributed in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
www.penguinrandomhouse.ca
Random House Canada and colophon are registered trademarks.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Doyle, Roddy, 1958–, author
Two more pints / Roddy Doyle.
Short stories.
Electronic monograph in HTML format.
ISBN 978-0-345-81536-1 (ebook)
I. Title.
PR6054.O95T858 2014 823'.914 C2014-905257-X
Contents
Cover
About the Book
About the Author
Also by Roddy Doyle
Dedication
Title Page
Copyright
19-9-12
3-10-12
7-10-12
17-10-12
28-10-12
7-11-12
9-11-12
21-11-12
24-11-12
4-12-12
5-12-12
9-12-12
16-12-12
22-12-12
31-12-12
14-1-13
15-1-13
18-1-13
26-1-13
31-1-13
4-2-13
5-2-13
7-2-13
10-2-13
13-2-13
27-2-13
8-3-13
12-3-13
13-3-13
25-3-13
8-4-13
14-4-13
26-4-13
1-5-13
8-5-13
18-3-13
25-5-13
3-6-13
9-6-13
20-6-13
25-6-13
19-7-13
23-7-13
31-7-13
14-8-13
20-8-13
24-8-13
28-8-13
30-8-13
10-9-13
11-9-13
17-9-13
4-10-13
17-10-13
23-10-13
27-10-13
3-11-13
6-11-13
7-11-13
5-12-13
6-12-13
18-12-13
28-12-13
31-12-13
5-1-14
13-1-14
31-1-14
11-2-14
7-3-14
11-3-14
8-4-14
22-4-14
23-4-14
25-4-14
30-4-14
3-5-14
4-5-14
9-6-14
11-6-14
23-6-14
25-6-14
19-9-12
— Wha’ d’yeh make of the photographs?
— Wha’ photographs?
— Kate Middleton.
— Who’s she?
— You’re jokin’.
— I’m not.
— You have to be.
— I’m not. I lose track o’ them all.
— She’s – look it, she’s married to Prince William.
— Which one’s he?
— For fuck sake—
— I know who yeh mean. Topless pictures.
— Exactly.
— An’ riots in all the Arab places because o’ them.
— No, listen—
— Egypt an’ Australia an’ tha’.
— No – that’s a fillum abou’ Muhammad.
— Topless?
— No – that’s the French cartoons.
— Wha’?
— Let’s just concentrate on the Middleton pictures.
— Your man, Muhammad – he’s dead, isn’t he?
— You’re gettin’ distracted. Listen.
— Wha’?
— You’re out on your balcony.
— I don’t have a balcony.
— You’re out the back. An’ it’s a lovely day.
— Okay.
— You take your top off—
— So I’m topless.
— You are.
— An’ me tits are bigger than your woman’s.
— They are.
— Serious – they are.
— So are mine.
— Desperate, isn’t it?
— We’ll get back to tha’. Annyway. You don’t know it, but someone’s takin’ photos of yeh.
— The cunt. Who?
 
; — A paparazzi. Me, say. An’ I sell the pictures to the Star.
— Okay.
— For a fortune.
— Fair enough.
— I brought me camera.
— Give us a hand with this zip.
3-10-12
— Top o’ the Pops.
— Wha’?
— D’you remember watchin’ Top o’ the Pops when you were a kid?
— Yeah – ’course.
— Pan’s People.
— Fuckin’ hell. The first women.
— Wha’?
— For me, like. That was wha’ it felt like. I remember them dancin’ durin’ a Status Quo song.
— ‘Down Down’.
— You remember it as well.
— I do, yeah.
— They were un-fuckin’-believable.
— They fuckin’ were.
— An’ I remember thinkin’ – it sounds fuckin’ ridiculous – but I remember thinkin’, They’re women!
— A eureka moment.
— Something like tha’, yeah.
— An’ it made you very happy.
— It fuckin’ did.
— An’ it still does.
— A bit, yeah.
— An’ Jimmy Savile. When yeh saw him on Top o’ the Pops. Wha’ did yeh think?
— Fuckin’ eejit.
— Yeah – me too. A gobshite. But never annythin’ else.
— No.
— Yeh never thought you were lookin’ at a fuckin’ paedophile.
— Well, look it, I went to the Christian Brothers. I didn’t have to look at Top o’ the Pops to know what a paedophile looked like.
— It’s horrible but, isn’t it?
— Fuckin’ horrible.
— Makes yeh wonder how many more television celebs an’ tha’ were paedophiles back then.
— Nearly all o’ them, I’d say.
— The lot.
— Except Morecambe an’ Wise.
— They were sound.
7-10-12
— See Enda Kenny’s on the cover of Time.
— Give me a shout when he’s on the cover of Playboy.
— It’s a big deal, but. He’s the first Irishman to make the cover since, well – probably Obama.
— He’s not Irish.
— Obama?
— Kenny – he’s not fuckin’ Irish.
— Wha’?
— He’s from Mayo, yeah?
— Think so – somewhere over there.
— Then he’s Moroccan.
— Wha’?
— I seen it on a thing – on the telly. The Moroccans came up from wherever the Moroccans come from—
— Morocco.
— Yeah. An’ they settled in Mayo an’ Galway an’ tha’. Took it over, basically. An’ the locals never noticed.
— Says nothin’ abou’ Morocco on the cover. The Celtic Comeback, it says.
— Me hole.
— Annyway, listen. They interviewed him—
— Did they interview Reilly as well, did they? Doctor fuckin’ James.
— I don’t think so—
— The Celtic Cunt. He’d try to sell them a second-hand ol’ folks’ home.
— Annyway—
— An’ relocate New York to fuckin’ Swords.
— Just fuckin’ listen. Kenny wants to bring us back to the late ’90s.
— Wha’?
— So he says.
— What’s he on?
— Somethin’ Moroccan, I’d say. But I’ll tell yeh, if we are goin’ back to the ’90s, it’s just as well yeh held on to tha’ shirt.
— Fuck off.
17-10-12
— D’yeh read much?
— Wha’? Books an’ tha’?
— Yeah.
— A bit. History – I like. The Nazis an’ tha’. Why?
— I wouldn’t mind readin’ your man Mitt Romney’s new one.
— He has a book?
— Binders Full o’ Women.
— Great fuckin’ title.
— It’s kind of a man’s version o’ Fifty Shades o’ Grey. Far as I can make ou’.
— What’s it abou’?
— The Governor of Massachew—. The one the Bee Gees used to sing about. Annyway, the women—
— The binders o’ them.
— Yeah – exactly. They’re attracted to him and they want to ride the arse off him.
— Grand.
— Cos he’s a bollix.
— Sounds realistic. A bit strange, but, isn’t it? A presidential candidate havin’ a book like that ou’ a few weeks before the election.
— He’s after the men’s book club vote, I’d say.
— Could be his downfall, but.
— How?
— The word – binders. Remember our own presidential fella who mentioned the brown envelope in the debate an’ tha’ was the end of him?
— Yeah.
— Well, binders might be Mitt’s brown envelope.
— He’s fucked.
— An’ not like the fella in his book.
— Brown Envelopes Full o’ Women. Would yeh buy tha’ one?
— Jesus, m’n, you’re makin’ me weak.
28-10-12
— Which way are yeh votin’?
— I can’t vote, bud.
— How come?
— I’m not American.
— Not tha’ one. Our own one – the referendum, like.
— Another one? It’s not fuckin’ Europe again, is it?
— No—
— Fuckin’ Hitler had the right idea there—
— Relax, for fuck sake. Take a fuckin’ chill pill. This one is abou’ protectin’ children’s rights.
— What’s the point o’ tha’? Jimmy’s Savile’s dead.
— It’s not about Jimmy Savile.
— I know. There’s Gary Glitter ou’ there as well, an’ the rest of them.
— No, listen—
— No, you listen. They – children, like – they already have their Xboxes an’ their – fuckin’ – tha’ place where the young fellas nearly show off their tackle.
— Abercrombie an’ Fitch.
— That’s the one – in town. They have tha’. Wha’ do they want rights for as well?
— You’re just bein’ thick.
— Ah, I know. Kids are grand. Take them away from their mothers. It’s for the best.
— I’m not listenin’.
— An’annyway, it looks like the American election mightn’t be goin’ ahead now.
— How come?
— It’s rainin’.
7-11-12
— Wha’ did yeh make of the result last night?
— Glad to see the back of them.
— Who?
— Man City, the fuckin’—
— No, no. I mean in America.
— The presidential yoke?
— Yeah.
— Our man got in.
— Good oul’ B’rack.
— I love the way he talks.
— Wha’?
— The way he talks – the speeches, like.
— Is this one o’ your Andriy Shevchenko moments?
— Fuck off – no. I’m just sayin’. Him an’ Morgan Freeman. An’ your man, the dead one. Martin Luther King. They’re great fuckin’ talkers.
— They’re all black.
— That’s part of it, yeah. It’s the style o’ the thing.
— Wha’ the fuck are you on?
— No, listen. ‘We have picked ourselves up.’ He stops an’ they cheer. ‘We have fought our way back.’ Same again. ‘An’ we KNOW in our hearts.’ They’re goin’ fuckin’ mad. ‘Tha’ for the United States of America.’ He makes them wait, then, ‘The-best-is-yet-to-come.’ It’s fuckin’ brilliant, tha’. ‘The-best-is-yet-to-come.’
— It is a Shevchenko moment.
— It fuckin’ isn’t. Not with Michelle beside him.
 
; — Now you’re makin’ sense.
— Gorgeous.
— Fuckin’ gorgeous.
— The election, but. What’s a swing state?
— I’m not sure, but you should probably think o’ fuckin’ movin’ to one.
9-11-12
— Are yeh votin’ Yes or No tomorrow?
— Well. I had one small doubt, but I think I’m covered.
— Wha’?
— Well, every Stephen’s Day I dangle the grandkids by their feet over the side o’ the pedestrian bridge in Fairview. It’s a family tradition. Hot chocolate after.
— Nice.
— So. My worry was tha’ if the thing is passed an’ children get their rights, then they’d have the righ’ to dangle me.
— It’d take a fair few six-year-olds to hold on to you.
— Tha’ was the worry. But I was assured, by a chap handin’ out the leaflets, that tha’ possibility is covered under existin’ weights and measures legislation. The holder of the legs must be four times heavier than the holdee. So I’m grand. An’ then as well—
— Wha’?
— I seen tha’ prick on the telly.
— Which one?
— The bald fella with the long hair. Yeh know him?
— The oul’ ‘if-Jesus-had-lived-a-bit-longer’ look.
— That’s him. He came last in the Eurovision.
— It’s some fuckin’ achievement.
— Anyway, he made a remark abou’ foster-parents. Suggested tha’ they’re in it for the money. An’ I says to myself, tha’ cynical cunt would say annythin’ for a No vote. So fuck him – I’m votin’ Yes.
21-11-12
- - - -
- - -
- - - - - -
— So, look it.
— Wha’?
— We’re goin’ to have to get past this.
- - Okay.
— I’ll say it – I don’t mind.
— Okay.
— Just the once.
— Okay.
— An’ then we can move on.
— Grand. Go on.
— Righ’ – okay. Yeh ready?
— Yeah – go on.
- - - Abortion.
- - -
— Tha’ wasn’t too bad.
— No.
— We’re over the hump.
— Yeah.
— Grand.
- - -
- - - -
- - Is—?
— Yeah?
— Is it okay if we have another pint now?
— Fire away, yeah.
— Thanks.