Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Rebel Rebel

Last Friday as I stood in a local chipper waiting for my cod to crisp and the spice burger to cook, the ground began to shake.

The lady in front of me, who had a very particular order for a burger 'no onion' and 'lots of ketchup', the sturdily built woman behind the counter who was making deft paper chip holders with a single movement of her hand, and the Chinese man who was nimbly flipping the burger while tossing the cod all looked up.

We turned towards the door.

A hoard of young men, citykids on the brink of adulthood, adorned with flags and pride, earrings and gobs the size of the Aillwee caves strode toward us.

The shop was visibly shaking, as were it's inhabitants.

The leader of the group began the chant 'YEAHHHHHHH' and they all joined in, fists raised.

As they came closer we looked at one another in terror.

The sturdy chip paper maker broke the tension with a smile, 'we'll need some more chips there Yang' she said.

He quickly lifted a big bucket of freshly sliced chips and they tipped them into the pan.

The first of the hoard made their way into the small shop.

Surprisingly most of them passed on, and we began to realise that they were heading towards a match, not heading up a mass revolution.

'How much is the chips missus?'.

'Two-fifty'.

'Wha?'

'Two-fifty'.

'Jeazus. Comeon and giz a chips then and a bottlacoke'

The woman winked at me 'I'll just get rid of these first' she said, 'and then I'll get your order'.

One of the lads dropped his money into the bag of the lady in front of me.

'Missus, I droppda my money in youra baga'

The lady looked on in shock.

The woman working behind the counter deftly packed the chips and said

'Aaaa gerra way outta that, you bagsnatcher ya, salt n vinegar on the chips then?'

The lad looked shocked. 'I'm only kidding ya' she said, 'two fifty please?'

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