Oh those funny old Guards

What did you think of the two gobshite guards outside the American embassy? Was that one of the most embarrassing things you ever heard or what?

As I understand it, there are always two armed plainclothes cops on duty at the embassy, as well as a few uniformed ones, plus a couple of dozen Marines and maybe fifty trained killers hiding up drainpipes. Now, I don’t know exactly what happened, but apparently the two lads decided to go for a drink.

Jaysus, PJ, I’m gaspin’. Will we run over to Paddy Cullen’s for the one? There’s no sign of a protester or a suicide bomber, or an Iraqi, or nothin’

OK, so, TJ. Just the one.

So the two boys skip over to Paddy’s fine establishment and get stuck into the porter, and fuck me sideways, before you know it, sure isn’t it nearly closing time, and things are getting edgy, and they’re both langers. They start arguing over who’ll buy the next round. A Mrs Doyle moment:

I’ll get it PJ

No TJ, I’ll get it.

You will in your bollix, PJ. I’ll fuckin get it.

Who are you callin a bollix, you long miserable Roscommon fucker?

Ha! That’s good, comin’ out of a thick Offaly cunt.

And before you know it, they’re trading digs. As you do. And before they know it, they’re out on the street, still swapping punches.

Take that you Offaly prick.

Oof! Have one of them, you useless Roscommon gobshite.

Then they calm down.

Jaysus, PJ, we better go back to the embassy, like.

Thass right, TJ. C’mon.

So they nip back across the road, where wait the Marines, and the uniformed Gardai, and the trained killers hiding up drainpipes. All watching them.


What, TJ?

D’ya think anyone saw us . . .

Saw what, TJ?

Saw us, you know . . .

Know what, TJ?

Saw us at it, like? Outside the pub?

At it??? At fuckin what? Are you callin’ me a fuckin homo, you stupid Roscommon bollix?

And so, as you do, they launch into another unseemly brawl, in front of the uniformed Gardai, the silent but all-observant Marines, and the appalled hidden killers who wriggle uneasily inside their drainpipes and mutter up their sleeves about a situation.

I don’t know what happened next, but they stopped fighting again, PJ handed his gun to a uniformed Guard, got in his car as drunk as a bastard and fucked off. I don’t know what TJ did. I think he just blundered away into the night, leaving the embassy unprotected by the Civil Power.

PJ was later stopped and arrested for drunk driving, and both of them now face dismissal, as you might imagine.

Now. Leaving aside the excruciating embarrassment for all of us, and the confirmation of every crass Paddy joke you ever heard, what about the fight? And the gun? Well, the Guards explained that they couldn’t take a prosecution against anybody because nobody made a complaint.

Sorry? What??

Here are two guys, both of them armed and drunk, fighting on the footpath outside the American embassy in front of uniformed police, but nothing can be done, because no-one made an official complaint. What kind of horse-shit is that? You try starting a scrap in the street in front of the guards and see what happens.
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