Justin Barry - My Side - Chapter 8

30th Jun 2008

Justin Barry - My Side
Chapter 8

Justin: a 'must have' for the ladies of Cork

Well I know I've been rather conspicuous by my absence in recent times, but what can I say, it ain't always easy to marry a high-flying legal career with my duties as an integral member of Cork's thriving underground hip-hop scene. In the words of the late great Notorious B.I.G.,

"I let my tape rock 'til my tape popped,
Smokin' weed and bamboo, sippin' on private stock."

Nearly had you going there eh. The truth is a little more 'Rolph Harris' than Biggy I'm afraid. The old January blues hit JB hard this year so I decided to hibernate for January and February. And I mean that quite literally here people.

The hole was dug, I made sure to cultivate a decent coat of fur to keep me warm, and the finest of nuts were stocked. The only catch was that I still had to go to work, which can really get in the way of a good solid hibernation, as you're restricted to somewhere in the region of twelve to thirteen hours sleep a day. True to form though, I soldiered on and made the best of a tough situation until sunlight returned to these parts around mid-March.

There's no better buy in DIY

But that's all behind us now ladies and gents - JB's back and he's badder than ever. "There's a grand stretch in the evenings there now," as they say down in Wesht Cork.

The cool and calculated sound of Jerry Fish's voice is to be heard beaming out of our tellies, flogging that Bulmers to us poor suckers like never before, even without the help of his Mudbug Club.

God I could listen to that guy all day long - no matter what he'd be on about, you'd still be craving a Bulmers the minute he opens his mouth.

Jihad
All of which leads me one inevitable conclusion - I'm declaring Jihad on the watering holes of this town for the summer months - sure there'll not be a drop o' whiskey left by the time I'm done! Who says excessive boozing is a problem - I enjoy it.

Myself and Stevie Murph have already put the wheels in motion up in the gaf, giving it a gritty yet cosmopolitan feel which is sure to charm even the most cynical connoisseur.

By which I mean that we went down to Woodie's DIY last Saturday and invested in a plastic table and chairs for out the back. We also stretched our budget to encompass the purchase of one of those umbrella yokes for over the table to give things something of a Mediterranean touch - the birds will love that.

Jerry

And trust yours truly to produce the goods, capping off a successful haul by spotting a huge drinks cooler which was simply a "must have", to use a phrase that the fine people of QVC shopping channel are so fond of. All that for only 200 sovs, something of a result if I do say so.

Space Cadets
I must admit we looked a bit of a state driving up the link with the boot open and this massive white plastic table hanging off the back of Murph's Volkswagen Polo, punters looking at us like "Who the hell are these space cadets and who let them out of the madhouse?" But what did we care, it's all in the name of the gatts.

It only took us half an hour to get it all set up, and then it was primed for a test run. Of course Dave breezes in after all the work is done - he'd been out for a munch with the lovely Miriam - good laugh I'd say. So we crack open a couple o' Heinos and put the feet up when, right on cue in fairness to him, Paul Mac calls me.

I'm there, "Hello sweet pea."

"Good morning to you too Good Sir. Can I interest you in an evening of high jinks amid the populace of this fine city?"

"I receive you loud and clear Private McCarthy. Had you a strategy in mind?"

"Indeed I had Mr. Barry. Our first port of call is a fine saloon in the environs of Barrack St, which happens to belong to a member of your own regiment - a Mr. Tom Barry. Talent is supposed to be alright up there and the beer garden out the back should cater to your needs".

Apollo
It didn't take long to convince Murph and Dave of the merits of an evening out on the town, so we put the gatts inside us, called Apollo, and were out the gap fairly sharpish.
And I must say Tom Barry's did not disappoint - a hidden little treasure which was under our noses the whole time, yet lay tragically undiscovered for so long. There's a couple of right minters working behind the bar for one thing (one of them is the head off Shannon Elizabeth), a fairly chilled out type of vibe (as the legend David Brent would say), solid beer garden, and yes fellas, plenty of fair young maidens to get acquainted with.

Now I didn't get any immediate result on my maiden voyage in there, but the gaf has some serious potential. I can defo see myself as a bit of regular over the coming months. Look out Ladies, the main man Phil Lynott put it best - The Boys Are Back In Town!

by Conor Ward
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