Whilst having a quiet beer.

I was playing poker in Ireland a couple of years ago, and what an amazing experience it was. Poker is a great game, and I keep myself to myself, unless provoked of course. I flew into Shannon, and a good mate drove us down to the venue in Killarney.It was my second visit to the country, my first was my stag doo in Belfast, which was an omen. Oh course the marriage lasted longer than the titanic, but not much longer.Did not enjoy Belfast, and was warned off certain places because of my accent? This did not stop me going walkabout alone,big mistake...lol.Anyway, that was a nother story.
The drive down south to Killarney was breathtaking, and I had no idea how beautiful it really was. My impression of the Irish has always been the same, they are not as stupid as people make out, and in my ignorance, I truly believed they were the same as the Scots and Welsh, and like us, British.At the venue, the craick was fierce and the Irish lived up to their name of witty fellas.I was playing quite well, and putting the mostly Irish crowd to bed, but was never flippant until annoyed. I'm a freindly guy, and really funny(hansom too) and was getting along with most the paddies and Micks, however.
I was sat alone after a session of poker, just about to have a guiness(£8 a pint?)When one of the locals made a quip? Sit down mate, do you fancy a beer? Before too long, our table was filling, with 8/9 locals all joining me. I'm a fit bloke, always have been, and I think one of them mistook me for a squaddie.The atmophere changed in seconds, and a few of them were intimidating towards me.Hang on a mo, this is my table, and if you have a problem, there are seats over there.....me v 8 or 9 angry Irish guys? I fancy my chances.One of the elders saw it getting heated, and calmed it down(phew)In an ignorant, and flippant way, I said. I get the feeling you lot have something against the English,and I had not got a fecin clue what was coming.So you know about bloody Sunday do you? Yes, of course, was 72/73? Well anyway mate, it was nothing to fecin do with me. They held a collective look of, he ain't as clever as he makes out, and we will educate this Englander.They then, as a collective explained..............................

Croak park, 21st november 1920 was the original BLOODY SUNDAY. They told me how Churchill ordered his special forces(the black and tans) onto their version of Wembley in tanks, they then opened fire on civilians and players, and butchered innocent,defenceless human beings.I could tell they were angry,passionate, and waiting for my reaction. I had them explain over and over, and each and every one of them told the strory as if they were there.One said, they don't teach that in your fecin schools do they? No mate, they do fecin not.

This could have gone two ways, but I went on the attack. Why are you blaming the armed forces? Why when they were following orders? But before I allowed them to get on their high horses, I said guys, it was clearly Churchill, but from the bottom of my heart, I am ashamed to be English right now. I went on to apologise, and bought another round. I honestly had no idea how much the Irish hated the English, but the two bloody sundays and a potato famin later, and don't mention Cromwell. We had a great night that evening, and I got on with every one of them, those thick micks educated the ass out of me.In 3 weeks it will be the 100 years annivarsary, and I will find an Irish bar open, and drink to their memory. Growing up, I always wanted to be American, because they were the greatest on the planet, I now wish I had been Irish if I had to be anything but british. Can't recall all their names, but a finer set of guys I will never meet.

There are so many things we are not told at school, IMHO, schools are child abuse by our incumbant Churchills