Not long back in Belfast. The country is a weird place. Full of weird people and strange animals that make strange noises in the night. I found a cool canal path that was something like the Lagan Towpath and wandered out into the countryside with a bag full of beer, I drank them all day and didn't see anything but cows and sheep until I came to a stone wall that I wanted to jump over.
There was a wee old man standing beside it with a grin that looked like he was doing chin stretching exercises. He asked me if I was having a nice day and I said yes and asked him how his day was. He stood and toul me all about how this was his brothers farm but he thinks that his brother stoul it after his father died and he must have tampered with the will because he'd worked these fields while his brother was out hooring and gambling and sure everyone in the country knows he's nothin but a dishonest hoors bastard, no disrespect to his ma, it's just an expression. And that he has to pay to keep his sheep on it but he should let him do it for free because sure the land would go to fuck if he did nathin with it.
I offered him some beer to cheer him up but he said no he said he had something better than beer and pulled out a bottle of poitin and I had a few swallys of it and woke up in the field in the dark wearing no clothes, glad I still had my kidneys, but fearful my hole had been tampered with.