The Gig, the Jig and Stealing a Hearse

Yes you guessed it. Another story from Ireland – because frankly, where else could this stuff go down?

So it was a Saturday night and we were off to Ballygobackwards to see a really great local band. There was me, Titselina Bumsqueak and my cousin, Saoirse* O’Milk all glammed, glittered and nearly scuttered with the litre of duty free Malibu we’d necked while getting ready – ahhh!! – The heady sophistication of the girls night out!!

We were able to get a lift to the dance which was in a town forty miles away, but we’d have to make our own way home. No problem – one of us was going to pull a lad with a car!

Well the band were cracking, the atmosphere was great and the drink was flowing. Before we knew it the evening was nearly over and we hadn’t even thought about getting home.

After a quick regroup at HQ (aka the ladies loos) we decided we wouldn’t waste time dancing with any lads without a car.

“Would ye like to dance?”

“D’ye have a car?”

“No”

“Away and shite ya amadán”*

My cousin was an eloquent orator..

She meant business too! There were me and TB, strutting our stuff when she’d tap us on the shoulder “Does he have a car?” “No” “Don’t dance with that yoke again” Who knows how many Prince Charming’s we turned down that night?!

Eventually TB pulled a fella who could get us home. We just had to walk to his parents place. That was fine we thought so we all walked up the road to….

A Funeral Directors.

The cold air might not have sobered us up but the idea of entering a funeral home the same way as corpses certainly did!!

Sadly the door wasn’t going to be the only thing we had in common with the zombie candidates. TB’s fella had waited until now to tell us that his dad’s car was a hearse. We were going home in a hearse.

We had to push the hearse out of the garage and along the road before he could start it so as not to wake his parents. Of all the bizarre things I’ve “liberated” in my life – which deserves a blog post in itself – this tops the lot. (So far!!)

We’d managed to push this 11 million ton vehicle up the road a couple of hundred feet before we realised.. there were only two seats. Two of us would have to lie in the back – where dead people laid!! It seemed only fair that since TB had snagged the fella she got to sit up front (seriously – what a catch!!NOT!!) Saoirse and I got to be the prettiest corpses ever and lie in the back.

As a side note, the shocks in those things are CRAP! I want an extra padded coffin when I croak just so you all know.

We were staying at Saoirse’s for the night and thankfully Uncle Semtex and Auntie BallyMacSmirnoff were sound asleep. Meladdo might have been taking two customers back with him if they’d seen us getting pulled feet first out of the back of the bloody hearse!

*Saoirse is pronounced Sorr-sha not Sore Arse no matter WHAT the toilet walls say.

*amadán – idiot