Dave Finn’s Tour of the Archives:

A Collection of some of the Tales of the recent Lit ‘n’ Deb

 

There are some of us who for some unknown reason have devoted the greater part of time at Lit ‘n’ Deb to finding out what truly happens at the events that involve the Lit ‘n’ Deb or its members. There are a collection of tales which could undermine the authority of the society and more importantly could land me in deep trouble. However I feel it is the right of the society to know what happened. I know what happened because I was there.

 

I was there when it was decided that all non-smokers would be beheaded and that their skulls be used as ashtrays. I was there when it was decided that there would be pigs on the left, wolves on the right and pigs in the middle. I was there when a well known member of the society woke up, rolled a cigarette and was given a round of applause, all on a bus where previously, a rather porcine individual from Limerick had given a salute to his fellow skanks via the sunroof. Now, the more sophisticated and observant will notice that these tales are mundane if not absolutely sane. The trouble with these tales and with the ones to follow is that they require a certain suspension of disbelief and, it has to be said, common sense. Names of the guilty are retained to protect me.

 

A couple of years ago, one of the committee members was an attractive young man who found himself very popular with the ladies. Unfortunately for the ladies, this particular individual was a little slow on the uptake. This was especially galling for one lady in particular. She was a first year who suffered all the traits and problems of being young and being away from Mammy for the first time. She was unbearably bright and bubbly and a complete flirt with everyone else apart from this one guy. After every meeting she would sit down at the table he was at and fawn all over him without ever overdoing it. Indeed compared to her attentions to other men she was extremely understated. However, what her gesture tried to keep hidden, her gaze betrayed. It was lust of a sort, in the sense that she did want to rip his clothes off but, there was also an element of “I’d love to take him home and feed him soup” to it all. Or at least that is what the four or five of us who were observing this felt. We all liked her and the females of our group all wanted to be the lads’ mammy. So, while disapproving vehemently of any woman soiling their boy, they wanted to get it on with yer man. He never noticed what was going on. For six months solid, this poor kid tried everything short of jumping on him to get him to notice and for six months solid he missed it. Things came to a head one night when she brought along a friend who was determined to succeed where the first year had failed. A battle of wills was engaged as the two lassies fought it out. There was no doubting who the public supported. “Don’t let that new wan take our G away from H,” were the instructions passed onto me. There was no danger. He was too drunk to know where his keys were never mind try to cop off with a kid. After that H lost heart and drifted off from the society. I’ve no idea where she is know. As for himself, well he’s going to kill me.

 

Being a cad is something I’m good at though. The year before the above incident happened, a committee member and myself made a bet that would cost him dear. That year the committee was primarily a male one. There were ladies on the committee (admittedly, only one of the ladies elected at the AGM survived to the following years AGM), but, apart from treasurer, the public’s perception of us was an all boys club. There was a first year girl (isn’t there always?) who decided that she wanted to get to know the committee better. To be fair to her though, it was probably not her intention to get to know us the way that we thought she wanted to know us. However, there was no denying that she spent a large amount of time on the first night talking to me. The fact that she is a spectacularly good looking woman made not jumping to the wrong conclusions difficult, However, nothing came of it. The following week she spent most of the night talking to my mate who got as far as I did. The third week she spent talking to another member of the committee who didn’t want to know and made it quite clear to me that he didn’t want to know. On hearing, that my mate and I concocted a wager so mean and low, it still embarrasses to think about it. Being drunk and bollixes, we decided that whoever shifted her first, between then and Easter, would get £10 off the other. It seemed a reasonable sort of suggestion at the time but, as time passed nothing seemed to be happening. Both of us got into relationships and the bet seemed to be forgotten. As for the girl, I got to know her, realise that her motives were entirely benign as all she wanted to do was to get to know people, and decided that she was, as well as good looking, a very nice person. Easter came and went as did the Summer and we came to the new session. I was now an outsider looking in and as such was spared the problems of first year groupies. My mate, however, was keen to renew old acquaintances. So on the first night, he got rat-arsed and started to chat up our friend from the previous year. My amusement, at first high due to my knowledge of her, slowly abated as I realised that he was walking her home. Not bad considering she lived in Newcastle and he was in Salthill. Anyway smug and self-satisfied, he arrived in the next day and told me he had won the bet. The relief at telling him that the expiry date was up on the bet would have been tempered had I known that someone with their own agenda had been listening. We were betrayed (albeit probably deservedly). The following Thursday, my mate came up to me saying that she was no longer talking to him as she had found out about the bet. Rather sheepishly, I approached her and apologised. To this day, neither of us has been as callow to make such a bet again. She still, as far as I know, doesn’t talk to him. She doesn’t smile at me for which, given her smile I’m extremely grateful.

 

These couple of cautionary tales should serve notice that I have a welter of stories that could incriminate and destroy. The reason I do not tell them all is simple: I’m in too many.

 

Dave Finn