The Sneaky Pint: Tommy and the Fake Tan

Posted on August 1, 2019 / by The Drunken Poet

The Sneaky Pint
(Scandal monger, investigator and heavy drinker. )
*Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

This story was relayed to The Sneaky Pint over numerous chilled beverages and delicious toasted sandwiches at a table in the front corner of The Drunken Poet. A spot renowned, amongst those who know, as the best place in that remarkable establishment for a really serious and, if need be, confidential natter. Unfortunately this story didn’t take place at The Drunken Poet. It took place in an infinitely more inferior bar, many, many miles to the north. Transport yourselves gentles to a windswept and snowy Moscow.
Tommy Kelly was sitting at the bar of The Shifty Bolshevik in one of Moscow’s less reputable districts. He’d had an absolute bullshit week arguing with contractors and basically trying to make some sort of headway on the massive project he’d been flown in to manage. You see Tommy built walls. In fact, it was well known that if you wanted the best wall and you wanted it done fast and on budget, well there was really only one person to call and that was Tommy Kelly. He knew walls better than most people know their own mothers. Actually, he knew walls better than he knew his own mother, but that’s another story and Tommy has been seeing someone to talk that one through.
Being a bit distracted and absorbed in his own troubles, he didn’t immediately notice the man standing next to him. What really pricked his ears was someone saying in an American accent, “I am the best builder, just look at what I’ve built.” Tommy turned in his seat to get a proper look at this guy. The American was loud and very orange. Tommy had seen some bad fake tanning before; God knows his sisters had written the book on that one, but this guy was in another league. He was dressed in an expensive looking suit, had one of the worst comb overs he’d ever seen and was flanked by two tottering busty blondes, who were obviously a couple of the local ladies from the surrounding red light district. At this point, the American locked eyes with Tommy and extended his hand and for what seemed like 5 minutes, he vigorously shook Tommy’s until he began to have serious fears for the safety of his pint. He asked Tommy where he was from and Tommy told him Cork. The American replied that he really really loved Scotland and it’s people. Tommy tried to tell him that Cork was actually in Ireland and not Scotland, but the orange fella wasn’t listening because he was announcing to the bar that the drinks were on him!
Well maybe he wasn’t that bad after all. In fact, as the night rolled on and the pints flowed, the American turned out to be great craic altogether. He said the most outrageous things with a completely deadpan face and Tommy laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks, but when he said that he was going to build a massive wall, Tommy began to take him more seriously. Apparently some Mexican was going to pay for it, but he was going to build it. Either way, it sounded like big bucks to Tommy. A guy called Vladimir was going to help him get some big job back in the States and he’d be rolling in it after that. Tommy was still taking all this in, when the American put Rocketman on the jukebox, saying that his mate Kim loved the song and then he abruptly left, bellowing from the door, “My I.Q is one of the highest and you all know it.” To which everyone fell over themselves laughing. As the laughter faded and they all turned back to the bar, Nadia the bartender, barked that the American hadn’t paid his tab and since Tommy was such good friends with him, he could pick it up. The fucker!! It was a costly night, but the craic had indeed been mighty.
*In 2016 a lawyer showed up at Tommy’s house offering him a large amount of money to deny that this evening had ever occurred. Of course Tommy took the money, so he would appreciate it if this was all kept on the down low.