For dinner last evening, Leesa and I went to an upmarket pub and sat at the bar. This being track season, the place was more raucous than usual. The two burley chaps to my left were already over-served and loudly planning their next port-of-call, a nearby strip club called Double Vision. They more than qualified. Though well into middle age, their delight at the prospect of watching ecdysiasts [from the Greek, to shed] was that of 19-year-olds. When one fellow inquired if I’d been, I feigned ignorance. I have, by the way, and it’s more than run-of-the-mill grim. I was for a time off demon rum and I don’t recommend such entertainments sans strong drink. At length, my new pals eagerly decamped for their performance venue and my wife and I returned to polite conversation. My exchange with them reminded me of the wonderful passage from Macbeth, Act II, Scene III, that concerns the peculiar effect of alcohol on men.
© 2024 John Oliver
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