Friday, 6 January 2012

Shifty and the Roman Candle

My Rodger is talking about new beginnings starting with the closure of the ' Oyster Club' A shock for some. You see it is the sewage outlet that is the problem and it all came to a head at New Years Eve! Shifty the Barman decided to go skinny dipping in the loch at 12.00, he had a notion to rise to the occasion under a full moon and the Rotary fireworks display. And as he dashed madly into the water he was heard to cry, ‘It full of hormones and I for one am no complaining’ He surface, tossed an old condom to the sky, and went down again. A vision I haven’t seen for quite some time. . ‘It won’t be long before fish will be suffering gender issues,’ muttered Rodger as he absently stared at Shifty rear surfacing, yet again. He began to ramble on about premenstrual tension and large candles, and I realized that my Rodger was in creative mode, yet again. And the nearest I’d see to his ‘rising to the occasion’ is him peeing outside some bleeding view of the Loch, while leaving some wet Celtic scrawl in the sand. Never drink yellow snow he used to say; well beware of warm sand…that’s all I can say. . So having viewed Shifty’s rear more times than a dram could make bearable, I began to toy with the idea of a visit to the chippy. When a group of woman of a certain age (were good lighting really does matter; esp when on top) ran like a heard of hens down a hill with a cockerel spaniel at their beck and call. For months stories of double breasted halibut floating around Loch fyne has led to the belief that estrogen tainted sewage has raised a barren loch to a soup of hormones that make HRT look like a polo mint. And now under the influence of Shifty’s cocktail, Shifty and the hens where getting in touch with their feminine side. Brain Mac Tavish a keen fisherman, stood beside me in the dark, he mused the herd of hens playful tossing their bras against a backdrop of the finest ‘Roman Candle’ I’d ever seen. ‘There was a time when you could swing a cat on my erection,’ he muttered. ‘Not any more, my cod roe is as limp as a dunked flapjack.’ He titled his whiskery chin at the loch ‘And there is no way I’d put a toe in that water, there’s enough hormones in that Loch to shrink the balls of a whale. ’ But Shifty is a changed man since that fatefully night under the stars. He is the barman that coordinates. And the women; the heard of hens; they took over the Oyster Bar and has taken fish of the menu. The Oyster Bar has become the Steak & Steronie’s house where a man goes in and never comes out quite the same.