Eoin Butler: writer, journalist and Mayoman of the Year

Tripping Along The Ledge



Sharon is a lovely girl. If she has one flaw though, it’s her woeful taste in men. Her last boyfriend, first time we met, segued directly from ‘How’s it goin’?’ into an anecdote about someone’s house he’d broken into the other night.

Now I’m not knocking the man’s profession, you understand. Everyone’s entitled to make a living. He just didn’t strike me as having an aptitude for that particular line of work. I mean, we hadn’t even been introduced yet. I could have been anyone. Last weekend at the Electric Picnic, however, Sharon found true love. The guy was called Derek and she reckoned Derek was the business.

“Whatcha think of this guy Derek?” Aidan asked me at the bar.

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “He tried to sell me pills when Sharon was at the jacks.”

“Cheeky bastard!” Aidan shakes his head in disgust. “D’you take any off him?”

“Fucker was looking for a tenner a go.”

“Cheeky bastard,” repeats Aidan. “Still, nice fella, I suppose?”

“Ah, yeah. Nice guy.”

A week later the big romance has bitten the dust. Derek hasn’t answered any of Sharon’s calls. In fact, the number he gave her is out of service.

Needless to say, her friends are rallying around.

“Maybe he’s a secret agent,” suggests Brendan, “called away on a case?”

“Maybe a rival hash dealer has a beef with him, maybe they’ve gone to the mattresses.”

“Fuck off lads, it’s not funny.”

“Do you know where he works?” asks Sean.

“Well,” Sharon snorts bitterly. “He said he works for the E.S.B. But for all I know, that could have been a lie too.”

“True, true,” I concede. “I mean, who among us hasn’t at one time or another pretended to work for the E.S.B. in order to impress a member of the opposite sex?”

“Send one of his mates a text,” suggests Paula. “Tell them you’re pregnant. That oughta flush the fucker out.”

Sharon shakes her head.

“Wouldn’t work…”

“Why not?”

“Ah, you know, it was a very small tent.”

Aidan and I exchange glances. Derek’s borderline folk hero status has instantly evaporated.

“Derek didn’t seal the deal? I don’t believe it!”

“I’m so disillusioned…”

“Just tell us one thing,” says Brendan. “Would it have made any difference if he’d said he worked for An Post, Bus Eireann?”

She shirks him off.

“I should have known not to come looking for sympathy from any of ye bollockses…”

“Irish Rail… Would you have slept with him if he was a train driver? Ah come on, I bet you would have…?”

A version of this article appeared in the Evening Herald, September 6 2008

September 3rd, 2009.

10 Responses to “THE BIG ROMANCE”

  1. Jenny Says:

    I once snogged a luas driver… To be honest he wasn’t even a luas driver he was a trainee luas driver.

  2. Eoin Says:

    Well fair play to him, he had prospects at least. How’d it work out anyway do you mind me asking?

  3. Conal Says:

    once had a shift off a fairly loose driver

  4. Eoin Says:

    Conal, I’ve read that comment three times now. Joke?

  5. Eoin Says:

    As in, if so explain it to me cos I’m stupid…?

  6. Wheelchair Ninja Says:

    Loose…Loo-as….Lu-as. Hahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahaha.

  7. ContraryMary Says:

    “Now I’m not knocking the man’s profession, you understand. Everyone’s entitled to make a living. ”

    I’m assuming this doesn’t apply to clampers you contrary cuntya

  8. Jenny Says:

    Re: the Luas driver we went out three times and on the third date in the restaurant he said something real funny and I laughed and snot came out my nose.

    He never asked me out again.

  9. Conal Says:

    Q: What do you call a luas driver with one leg?

    A: Disabled.

  10. Eoin Says:

    @ ContraryMary – clampers are parasites.

    @ Jenny – fair play, you insane woman ya.

    @ Conal – is that one of those anti-jokes, like…

    Knock, knock.

    Who’s there?

    The police. I’m afraid there’s been an accident. Your husband is in hospital.



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