Friday

Last Friday I had the dubious pleasure of being scanned with a metal detector on the way into the pub. Such are the wondrous times we live in these days. I felt a little bit like I was in Total Recall for a moment, as the bouncer pointed at the square, wallet-shaped thing in my pocket and asked what it was. However, the novelty had worn off by the time I got inside as I wondered exactly why they were doing it. Were they expecting trouble or was it just a precaution? Whichever the reason, I made sure we didn't sit anywhere near the window.

It was absolutely mobbed but I was knackered so made my excuses and left early, stoppping off at the pub on the way home to see what time J would be finishing. Stayed around for another beer to wait until closing, whereupon the local schizophrenic and bon viveur came out to provide me with more of his interesting assessments of my parents' marital status, which part of a lady's anatomy I most resembled, and what he was going to do to me - although hastening to add it was nothing personal. I've heard all this pish a hundred times before and am very bored off it, and on Friday I ranted back at him. His hatred of me seemed to stem from the fact that I was from "Belfast", as he kept referring to my "mates" inside - meaning a couple of Belfast boys I'd seen earlier. I tried to point out I'd never even met them and anyway, how can where you come from dictate whether or not you're a nice person?

I'd forgotten about Liverpool, of course, and the fact that I was talking to a schizophrenic, so understandably these arguments had little effect. Just as I was getting ready to leave (with my pissed mate not understanding that this is a waltz the two of us play out everytime he sees me and trying to physically manhandle the guy away, whilst J did a subdued Polish version of "leave 'im Dean, ee's not werf it"), the subject of religion came up. Probably in terms of him calling me a Catholic-something-or-other. At this point I said "but I'm not even a Catholic, I'm Protestant". This guy goes "What? Say that again?" and I repeated myself, after which he held his hands up saying "Sorry, I didn't know, I didn't know" and backed right down. I did ask what the feck that mattered anyway but he just kept saying "I didn't know". I have never disclosed my "religion" to randoms, most definitely not to win an argument - I haven't even been to church since I was 13. But had I known that saying that 6 months ago when he started giving me grief would have apparently stopped it straight away, I would have been willing to make an exception.