Brendan Burgess
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A few of us are meeting up in the Stag's Head from about 6 pm.
All welcome.
Brendan
All welcome.
Brendan
Askaboutmoney pint Friday 12th September
- Thread starter Brendan Burgess
- Start date
[Scene: A pub in Dublin. Midweek. Four regulars and Clubman are gathered around a table. Everyone looks like they’ve just read their latest electricity bill and aged five years.]
Brendan:
To bartender “Pint of Guinness. And don’t rush it. I’m paying €6.80 for this now. That’s more than I paid for a haircut in 2004. And the pint lasts less time.”
Mary:
Sighing “I’ll have a glass of wine. Cheapest red. Not because I like it—because I’ve accepted that joy is unaffordable. €7.50 for fermented regret.”
Tom:
Ordering “Vodka and tonic. And none of that craft nonsense. I don’t want it served in a jam jar with a sprig of thyme. I want it in a glass, like a man who’s watched his pension evaporate.”
Siobhán:
To bartender “Do you have tap water? I’m not paying €3.20 for sparkling water that tastes like disappointment. I’m saving for a heat pump.”
Clubman:
Already annoyed “I’m not drinking. I’m just here to observe the financial self-harm. €6.80 for a pint. That’s €204 a month if you go three times a week. Over ten years, that’s €24,480. You could buy a second-hand car. Or therapy.”
Brendan:
Grumbling “I remember when a pint was €4. You didn’t need a spreadsheet to go out. Now I need to check my Revolut before I order crisps.”
Mary:
To group “I saw someone order a cocktail here last week. €13. It came with a dehydrated orange wheel and a lecture on sustainability. That’s half my bin charges.”
Tom:
Deadpan “I asked about a whiskey and the barman said ‘Would you like the €18 one?’ I said, ‘Would you like me to cry in front of you?’”
Siobhán:
To Clubman “Is it worth switching to a fixed rate mortgage now or should I just start digging a bunker?”
Clubman:
Without blinking “Depends. Are you planning to live in the house or just use it as a shrine to your poor financial decisions?”
Brendan:
To bartender “Can we get the bill split? And no, I’m not paying for Mary’s wine. She’s the only one here with a defined benefit pension.”
Mary:
Snapping “It’s not a defined benefit, it’s a defined disappointment. And I still have to pay PRSI like the rest of you.”
Tom:
Looking around “Honestly, we should’ve just gone to the credit union and sat in silence. Would’ve been cheaper and more emotionally rewarding.”
Clubman:
Final blow “This is why I drink at home. No markups, no small talk, and no one tries to sell me a €9 IPA brewed in a shed in Wicklow.”
Brendan:
To bartender “Pint of Guinness. And don’t rush it. I’m paying €6.80 for this now. That’s more than I paid for a haircut in 2004. And the pint lasts less time.”
Mary:
Sighing “I’ll have a glass of wine. Cheapest red. Not because I like it—because I’ve accepted that joy is unaffordable. €7.50 for fermented regret.”
Tom:
Ordering “Vodka and tonic. And none of that craft nonsense. I don’t want it served in a jam jar with a sprig of thyme. I want it in a glass, like a man who’s watched his pension evaporate.”
Siobhán:
To bartender “Do you have tap water? I’m not paying €3.20 for sparkling water that tastes like disappointment. I’m saving for a heat pump.”
Clubman:
Already annoyed “I’m not drinking. I’m just here to observe the financial self-harm. €6.80 for a pint. That’s €204 a month if you go three times a week. Over ten years, that’s €24,480. You could buy a second-hand car. Or therapy.”
Brendan:
Grumbling “I remember when a pint was €4. You didn’t need a spreadsheet to go out. Now I need to check my Revolut before I order crisps.”
Mary:
To group “I saw someone order a cocktail here last week. €13. It came with a dehydrated orange wheel and a lecture on sustainability. That’s half my bin charges.”
Tom:
Deadpan “I asked about a whiskey and the barman said ‘Would you like the €18 one?’ I said, ‘Would you like me to cry in front of you?’”
Siobhán:
To Clubman “Is it worth switching to a fixed rate mortgage now or should I just start digging a bunker?”
Clubman:
Without blinking “Depends. Are you planning to live in the house or just use it as a shrine to your poor financial decisions?”
Brendan:
To bartender “Can we get the bill split? And no, I’m not paying for Mary’s wine. She’s the only one here with a defined benefit pension.”
Mary:
Snapping “It’s not a defined benefit, it’s a defined disappointment. And I still have to pay PRSI like the rest of you.”
Tom:
Looking around “Honestly, we should’ve just gone to the credit union and sat in silence. Would’ve been cheaper and more emotionally rewarding.”
Clubman:
Final blow “This is why I drink at home. No markups, no small talk, and no one tries to sell me a €9 IPA brewed in a shed in Wicklow.”