‘Are ye havin’ a laugh? Did ya pull that outta yer arse?’, an irate Dub was overheard saying. ‘Crazy Covid rules have me bleedin’ head melted, they do.’
What they say and what they mean: a guide to COVID-19 restriction notices.
It is forbidden to consume food brought into this hostel. (COVID-19 protocols)
Translation:
We’re broke, our food is shite, we have a fella from Brazil in the kitchen who faked his CV and has no idea how to cook a sausage let alone an Irish Stew. Please eat our shite and stay away from that fantastic burrito place on the corner or the shop across the road that has hot chicken rolls that make you constipated. They literally fill you.
(Hostel/Hotel/Wedding venue)
It is forbidden to consume alcohol outside of designated zones. Help stop the spread of COVID-19.
Translation:
We haven’t two shillings to rub together, our rent is insane and no one drinks here. We bought a ton of crates of bland lager and not even the clowns that used to drink it will touch it. Stay away from the new amazing off license on the corner that sells 100 types of IPA, 45 stouts and anything else you might imagine. Drink up our sup, we’ve a keg of wifebeater that has been left sitting, it’d be great if you’d sacrifice your intestines to keep us afloat. Order a few pints and we’ll give you an approving nod which should reassure you of your acceptability in a social setting. Drink like fuck as long as it’s our slop otherwise be a virgin teetotaler and don’t give us any of your guff. There’s the door.
In an airport
Masks must be worn at all times. Help protect everyone against COVID-19 and its variants.
Translation:
If you sit over there at the café and get stuck into €3.50 coffees you’ll almost certainly be immune to everything even the flu and possibly the clap. Not a fear have you of getting that auld Covid. Take off your mask and relax as long as you’re willing to pay for the privilege. We’re looking after your best interests (and our own).
In the toilets
This urinal is unavailable. Help protect against COVID-19. Keep safe together
Translation:
I haven’t a fecking idea why this is written here.
Vomit. I have to vomit, may I remove my mask? Would it be ok to let her up here or would that pass on the auld Rona? I’ll go to this one that’s 2 meters away from me mate who I’ve been drinking with all evening and gave a non-gay, sexually acceptable man hug to earlier. Just want to be safe, ya know?
Ladies and gentlemen, the consumption of your own alcohol is illegal on this aircraft (Covid-19 Policy)
Translation:
Look at, we’re not getting sloshed ourselves and we’ve a very limited selection of overpriced warm cans here and maybe some weak tea so don’t be drinking that decent stuff you got in the duty free or we’ll…ahem.. we’ll kick you off, no… turn the plane around, no we won’t do that either. Basically we’ve no recourse. Well apart from stuffing your gob with guaranteed to win lottery tickets and see how you’re fixed then. That would put manners on you and help you win a free car while helping children that may or may not exist. You can be a winner too. Now put away that bottle of whiskey for the love of all that is holy.
On the way into a bar in Dublin:
Please keep a minimum distance of 2 meters at all times. Help us stop the spread of COVID-19
Translation:
While you’re exactly here and we’re watching you, behave yourself or you’ll get the nasty Rona and probably not be able to smell a Guinness fart for an extended period. If you don’t we’ll definitely huff and puff and do nothing. So be warned. Oh yeah and if you’re looking for a pint, ye can all head a few yards away and get stuck in. Also you’ll all probably be hemmed in down in the jacks later as we’ve only 2 cubicles and several hundred punters. There’s absolutely no ventilation there, nor health & safety of any description but don’t forget we are working for your safety. Together we can do this. This is Crazy Covid Ireland!
My sympathies to anyone affected by the coronavirus. I realise it is a serious condition for many.
Cover photo credit. License here
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John P Brady writes short and long fiction, articles and formally a blog about life in Italy, where he lived for 6 years. His first book, a collection, entitled Back to the Gaff has been published by Roadside Fiction.
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Back to the Gaff
Scandalous Narratives of Contemporary Ireland
Back to the Gaff is a collection by author John P Brady, which describes the excessive and outrageous nature of Irish night life.
Meet an array of eccentric individuals who populate the bars of Dublin, living lives of decadence and abandon. Their frolics inevitably lead to a trip ‘back to the gaff,’ which in Dublin-speak means gravitating towards someone’s place of residence where the depravity continues.