We were in Faslane in September 78 and me and my two good Oppo’s, young Dusty Miller the baby cook and an Irish REM who for the life of me I can’t remember his name (and it has annoyed me for years). (Will call him Irish). Anyway, went ashore for a wet or three, we ended up in this dive of a pub and Irish had a way with the ladies, don’t know what it was but he very rarely failed and he’d top anything, he pulled the barmaid, I say maid, more like old maid, she must have been sixty if she was a day bearing in mind none of us was older than twenty.
As was Irish’s form he turned up late next morning and was put straight onto Jimmy’s defaulters. He was in there no more than ten minutes and came back down the mess deck smiling.
What did you get
Nothing
Nothing, you were over three hours late
told him I was in Church
You in church, came the laughter
Yeah told him I was a devout catholic and I had to go in desperately to offer up a prayer
It was September 29th and Pope John Paul 1st had died the night before and the Jimmy was also a Catholic, talk about luck of the Irish