3 Of The Best Session Gaffs In Town
WITH session gaffs on the rise due to increasingly extortionate drink prices in bars and clubs and stagnant wages, ‘going in’ has become the new going out for a large majority of young people wishing to blow off some steam. Please find below our top three session gaffs in town.
The Lads’ Place
Ah, the lads. Everyone knows the lads. The lads, containing an equal number of young men and women who all live in each other’s pockets, tend to meet up on Friday evenings after work and scout around the town looking for drinks promotion nights.
Once done availing of free stuff, the lads all head back to the lads place and ring Derek – one of the lads – who knows a lad who sells bangers for a fiver a piece. The lads sometimes allow newcomers into their clique, but very rarely take on new lads for more than a week as 34 lads seems to be the right number of lads at anyone time.
The lads have been the same lads for the last 10 years and have basically ran out of other lads to sleep with, with a few of the lads coming full circle boyfriend and girlfriend again. Occasionally sneaking off to the bedroom or toilet in small groups of four or five for pill chats and bumps of 5% pure cocaine, the lads love to have the crack and take turns top loading joints for themselves and their mates while giving the new potential lads the butt.
The lads always have an issue with one of the other lads, but it’s usually sorted by Sunday morning when the lads have to head to the shop together for five bottles of Buckfast. One of the lads is always in the Kitchen explaining how to extract DMT from a certain root bark and they never shut up about DMT, ever. Bottom line: the lads’ gaff is great for a visit now and then, but you’ll never be one of the lads.
With over 30 convictions under his belt and a dose of shingles, Mark Hennessy’s session gaff has been renowned for its sporadic violence and questionable guests, with neighbours claiming the Gardaí visit more times than the postman.
Heno’s gaff has been regularly described as a place of squalor and intrigue, with only the very toughest of skin allowed through its piss-stained doors. Heno’s gaff can only be accessed by a loud and quick double tap of the nicotine caked front window, as the sound of the filthiest techno emanates onto the street.
Neck, face and swallow tattoos must be shown at the door before entry, and those with less than a makings of a joint or bag of cans will not be permitted into the front room. Everything can be acquired in Heno’s, making it the one and only self-contained session gaffs of its type in the town. Occasionally visited by one of the lads from the lads’ gaff, you will never see Heno in the lads’ gaff due to social aspects too confusing to explain here.
Heno’s gaff is usually monitored by a D reg navy car with no hubcaps on weekends, but Heno doesn’t care. Heno never cares. Heno’s gaff occasionally closes for weeks at a time, depending what sentence Heno receives that month.
Divorced John’s Gaff
Divorced for the past ten years, John Regan’s apartment has been the centerpiece of many a middle aged night out on the town. In 2008, John’s then 23-year-old wife Magda went back to Poland after the crash, leaving him with an underlying alcohol problem which flourishes every weekend in form of a reckless dinner party with people he barely knows. Gaining access to John’s gaff can be done in a couple of different ways, but mostly by meeting John in his local bar any evening after work, with a simple ‘hello’ being enough for some people to be invited back.
John’s gaff is a lovely, Celtic Tiger-era 3-bed apartment with stunning views of the town, however, smoking is strictly prohibited with most guests making their way to the balcony while John is left to his own dark, suicidal thoughts in the open plan living room. John’s parties usually end with John telling everybody about his life story, before guests realise the last of his Columbian grade cocaine is gone and they have to suddenly head home.
John’s sessions usually end with John masturbating furiously on the couch, before crying himself to sleep. Bottom line: great guy, great gaff, great coke, terrible host.
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