Quiet Country Pub’s Toilet Somehow Resemble Tony Montana’s Last Stand


DESPITE having no more than 12 customers grace its premises this evening the toilets of The Broken Hurl pub, located at a quiet crossroads in rural Waterford, has so much cocaine Eric Clapton would write a song about it.

“Quiet enough now, we’d not get many in of a Tuesday,” remarked publican Maurice Morrison, unaware that the top of his toilet cistern contained enough cocaine to rival a Kinahan stash site.

How exactly a sleepy rural pub has transformed into an upturned snow globe remains a mystery to everyone who last had an evening out in 1991, but one pub patron had more cop on.

“Nothing doing boi, is there?” confirmed one man, whose Tuesday evening could have been boring were it not for his trips to the toilet to do his best Scarface impression.

“Some say a 52-year-old like myself, doing more sniffing than a police dog at Electric Picnic is a sad indictment of how things are going but I just call it living,” added the regular, who could hardly go home to his wife and kids now could he.