Having just arrived home from picturesque Dingle Bay in Ireland, where he had partaken of such scenery as he had never borne witness to before, he decided to go to the local hostely for a quiet pint or two to refresh his long term friendships with the locals.
This would be in stark contrast to the Irish pubs where men in old fashioned style clothes quaffed Guinness with an air of belonging and a boldness befitting wild teenagers and fiddle music filled the air with the occasional accompaniment of the pipes. This would be like stepping into a quiet barn after a night in the chicken coop. This would be like entering Joes cafe after a meal at a top restaurant.
He walked through the doorway of his local with an air of superiority and like he had tales to tell but shock, horror, what met his eyes filled him with disbelief and anguish.......