Scratchings, Beer and fags: April 2014

Hot on the....ahem....heels of part one of our regional differences trilogy* is part two. Read about part one here by the way.

So - part two and this time we put the Irish under the spot light and see what these fuckers get up too eight hours deep into a session.

Something like this you would imagine and you would be right

Again thorough and extensive research was conducted to maintain the objectivity, neutrality and passion to strive for the truth that Scratchings, Beer and fags always aims for and achieves - I'm sure you will agree.

So - Micks then. I went to Ireland once so feel I have a well grounded vantage point to discuss this matter. I went to limerick in about 1996 and got fucking arseholed for three days. Plus I have a mate who lives in Ireland - he is a little fellah so he is, and a bit of a cunt.

So my initial prognosis on the snacking habits of the Irish whilst on the smash is that it does not really exist.

Blimey!

My memory of my visit is that I have no real memory of the visit although I can say with some clarity that I definitely had no Scratchings and a testament that can be borne out by my little Irish friend who came to visit the hot bed, and home of scratchings culture - the Black Country - at the end of last summer. I took him to a favourite watering hole of mine Somers Sports and Social Club where I treated him to the delights of a pork scratching. He had genuinely never seen one - I know, fucking weird eh!

Anyway the moment arrived and he selected a mid sized scratching with a healthy amount of meat and a nice crispy coat to accompany the pint of shit fizzy lager the cunt had bought, I would like to point out here that Somers has won Camra Sports and Social Club of the year on numerous occasions along with some other shit awards as the beer is fucking off the fucking hook. So where were we...oh yes...the little Irish cunt had selected a scratching and he then ate it and declared it as disgusting fat ridden muck, well I think that is what he said as he is Irish and talks like Brad Pitt's character in Snatch. The cunt.

I was fucking mortified, not to mention embarrassed, people were in ear shot, normal people, people who like scratchings - the cunt had the temerity to say he did not like them, but, get this, he likes fucking scampi fries. Wanker.

So in short - Micks, no bar snacks but white pudding for breakfast so it sort of evens itself out, a bit. Sort of.