Monday, December 17, 2007

Crisis In Foptown

Okay, so me and the chaps decided to go into The Morgan last week for tapas in the bamboo smoking garden.

We sat down gingerly spouting Wildean witticisms, pereusing the menus while we smoked our cigarettes foppishly. Naturally we were tickled pink; the tapas is always top drawer in The Morgan. Boots on the street say they've captured a real live Spanish chef, most likely named Fulgencio, who possibly sports a pencil moustache.

When the excessively attractive Italian waitress came to take our drinks orders, the chaps were much dismayed as she didn't seem to be au fait with the beers requested. I smiled avuncularly at her cute ignorance and mouthed out, "Du-vel or Chim-ay Blue," confident that The Moragn would, as always, deliver the goods. Nevertheless, the chaps were rattled.

We waited in deathly silence, drowning in the wildly inappropriate House music they insist on pumping into the place 24/7. And though I assured the chaps it would be okay, the morale of the men was low. So, I thought a misogynistic joke might lighten things. "I wouldn't mind a messy drawn out invasion by her if I were Abbysinia just prior to WWII." But it was no good, the men were already afraid...afraid they'd have to drink Irish beer.

It took her ages to come back; the kind of ages that means bad info on a reconnaissance mission. We'd seen it before...before The Celtic Tiger delivered us from damp provinciality and Smithwicks.

She evantually arrived back smiling apologetically. "The barman he say we don't do anymore."
The news forced me to resist the compulsion to say, "We'll if you two don't do anymore, then I'll do!" It was no laughing matter. T'was as we feared- a dark dark day in Temple Bar. The day The Morgan lost its lustre; what had made it a fop's oasis in a sea of vulgar hen parties and stag nights. We shuffled heads down to Les Freres Jacques to drown our sorrows in champagne and rub caviar into our wounds.

A little petal on the delicate flower of my youth died in that smoking garden.


Tune in tomorrow for another of Party Jack's crises in foptown.

1 comment:

aoife mc said...

Fop you, you fopping fop.