Robbing Jackets?

Just to be very clear. Yes, my jacket was nicked last night, I had this sweet dark navy suit jacket that I bought for the bargain price of 30 bills from the secret gem that is Lucy's Lounge in Temple Bar, and not to blow my own trumpet, I looked smokin in it. It was the type of jacket that was probably worth about five or six times the price it actually was. It kept you warm as hell, and for that reason, the only thing I had underneath was some t-shirt I nicked from Greg a few months ago.

I came into the Shaw after work, ready to rejoin my mates on there madgeouvit journey into the next decade. I was knackered from the night before, from Siobhan & Molly’s party on Bloomfield Ave. I had only had about 2 hours kip and was in the Gaiety to do Daisy for 1.30 but, at this stage, work was over and I felt a lovely second wind coming on. I strolled in, put my jacket and bag by the table where everyone was sitting, ordered myself two Long Island Ice Tea, in a pint glass and things were starting to look funky as fuck. My mates, Russell & Aaron were playing away, I can’t wait until they incorporate those dumb bells into their act. There I stood, side by side with Paddy & Greg, my playing catch up was going exactly to plan. I was on the road to fuckedness. Not, like, mental fuckedness, but just ‘havin the crack’ fuckedness.

When the music went off and they were kicking people out, a select few of us were invited to stay back for one last New Years pint. Tara had been drinking for two days so her stamina levels were dropping fast so it came to a point where it was going to be a taxi home followed by some serious 'Jacko Snuggles'. All of this would be definitely become a major priority over the next half an hour.

'Let's go home, Jack.'

'Okay, Hun, no worries. Just let me get my bag and coat.'

I see my bag under the table where I had left it. I pick it up, onto my back and I start a quick search for my jacket.

' . . . . . . . . . . Where is my jacket . . . . . . . .? . Where’s my jacket . . . . . . . . . . where the fuck is my jacket.’

I search high and low for the bastard, it is no where to be found and to make it worse, do you want to know what was in the pocket? My wallet and my passport.

Now, this opens another box of irritations, loosing the jacket on one of the chilliest nights of the year is one thing but when your fucking wallet and passport are inside the fucker, it is about as deadly as getting fisted by a silverback.

Actually, the jacket is not much of a loss, I could probably head into Lucy’s Lounge tomorrow and get another one, and better one at that for cheaper but the wallet and passport. Shit Buzz.

First off, My Wallet, now, this is one of the most important thing a man can have, it is our bag, everything is inside it. I had very little cash in it, if any but I did have a load of receipts for work, which I will have to write up and worst of all, all my cards, social security card, savings account card (like that cards has ever been useful) and you know what? I was starting to like it. I had it that long that it was filled with character. Now that I think about it, it’s the longest I’ve ever had a wallet.

Then there is the passport which is another seventy squid. I’m going to Berlin next month so I’m gonna have to get that over the next while. In fact, I think I’m gonna have a bit of trouble get one for the fact that I have lost the last few.

Who the fuck steals a jacket? Hey, I know, it was cold and the person was probably didn’t have a coat, which, if I think about it, is even worse. I walked home in a t-shirt and I’m probably going to have a lovely cold to look forward to as well. I would never steal a jacket, well, I do remember nabbing that slick brown leather jacket from the Gaiety lost property area but that was different, they were there for over a year.

Anyway, I’m gonna get a poster going in the Shaw. Hopefully, the person will take pity on me and return my jacket which carries in it my wallet and passport. The poster will read –

Jacket Taken Last New Years Day @ The Shaw

If the person who accidentally took my navy suit jacket, which also so happened to have a passport with the name – John Olohan on it (Please, the John is a long story) and a fawn coloured wallet inside it and he or she feels they would like to return the jacket to it’s rightful owner, they could drop it into the Shaw or you can call me on 086 lick my hairy balls.

If you feel that it was a great steal and that this fine piece of clothing is a perfect new addition to your wardrobe, well, know this. I will find you. I will not sleep.