“On one particular night at our club (the Dockworkers Social and Recreational), Jamesy, Archie and myself, having dined on deep-fried black pudding and chipped potatoes, opted for a digestif of canned lager. It was a modest five-litre special-offer beverage that had travelled well – from Tesco at Bathgate – and we, in Jamesy’s phrase, got ‘leathered intae it’ (today’s vulgar patois calls it binge-drinking).
The only fly in the alcoholic ointment came during Archie’s anecdote about a robbery ‘that went wrang.’ Imagine our surprise when, while Archie was describing in amusing terms how he’d broken the arm of an uncooperative postmistress, a stranger approached to ask if we could keep the noise and swearing down.
Source: Irish Medical News, 02/12/2011
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