The Flying Sofa, The Flog in the Bog and The Tyre-eating Dog

Not long ago, we did a laser light show outdoors at Joe Gallagher's other pub, called "The Pull Inn", which is in Pollagh (pronounced pull-uh) which is in the bog about 10 miles from Tullamore. We called it "The Flog in the Bog". It went well - packed the place, created the biggest traffic jam ever on that little boreen and people saw the lights in the sky way over in Shannon Harbour.

During setup, Brendan and I were up and down ladders all day, putting equipment on the roof of the inn and transporting equipment to and from Brendan's car. Whenever we'd start or move the car, Joe's three dogs would chase it and snap at the tyres. After the show, we got back to Tullamore at some ungodly hour and Brendan's right-front tyre went flat. We examined it and found dog toothmarks and a puncture in the sidewall.

Now, Brendan did have to buy a new tyre, but we were laughing about it because, well, who ever heard of a car-chasing dog who actually caught one, bit it and damaged it? We were laughing in Joe's Manor Bar when Joe came in, asked what the hilarity was about and we told him.

"Bejaysus!", he said. "Someone told me my dog had bitten a hole in their tyre once before, but I never believed that could really happen!"

Well, we'd heard that strange things happen in the bog. Weird lights in the sky and tyre-eating dogs.

So, I was just after getting meself a nice chairbed so's Brendan wouldn't have to use his sleeping bag on the floor when he came down from Dublin to work with me. I'd put the loveseat out in the hall, replaced it with the chairbed and then found out that we couldn't get the loveseat through the door to take it downstairs where Joe stores all the furniture he uses to furnish the flats above the bar. We dunno how he got it in here in the first place and Joe says someone brought it up for him and he dunno, either.

So, I get the bright idea of lowering it off the fire escape on a rope, two storeys down to the backyard of the bar so we can just hike it up the front stairs to Joe's storage room on the first floor.

Along come Joe and his son, Fergal. We manage to shove the sofa through the door onto the fire escape. Fergal ties a nice piece of strong polypropeline rope to the loveseat, lowers it over the side of the fire escape.............

And that's when I find out that Fergal isn't a great boy scout or sailor. The knot slips, Joe runs for cover and the loveseat splinters all over the roof of the Abrakababra take-away restaurant next door, putting a nice hole (oops!) in their slate roof which they probably won't notice.........until the next time it rains.

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