Tuesday, March 20, 2012

The Irish Snowball

Snowball

I was remembering the other day an old friend from my previous life (and my previous marriage) who I had met through horse riding.  We got on very well and had a lot of great times together at parties and camping holidays.  But this story is not all about her, it's about her boyfriend.

We called him Irish John (though that's not his real name) because he said he was Irish.  His girlfriend Kim (not her real name either) said he was Irish too.  This is what he told her when he chatted her up, he had an Irish accent, and that's what she believed.  That's what we all believed when we met him and everyone he met from then on believed he was Irish.

He was not.

He only took on jobs that paid in cash as he implied that he couldn't get a tax file number as he was in Australia because he was hiding from the IRA. Apparently he didn't do something he was asked to do.  Of course we had doubts about the IRA story but we thought it was just Irish John being Irish John.  He was always funny, charming and unfortunately way too friendly with the girls.  But we all knew he was harmless.

We spent every weekend over five years with Irish John and Kim, horse riding, camping, partying and generally having a great time (it was our 20's after all).  He even met another friend of ours who was Irish who mentioned he didn't quite trust him and thought his Irish accent was suspect.

They moved in together and got engaged.  Kim started working nights at the local club and Irish John would go out all night and she would have no idea where he was.  Sometimes he would turn up at our place and drink all night.  He started playing footy and training a couple of nights a week.  They started fighting more and more but I didn't interfere, I was having my own domestic problems.

Then one night he was seen with a girl at footy training in the back of Kim's car he had borrowed (of course he didn't have his own car, or even his own licence!).  The witness was one of our mates from horse riding, so of course he told his wife who told me.  But they all thought it was best we shouldn't tell Kim.  I didn't agree.  I thought if I was in her place I would not want to be kept in the dark.

So I told her.

It was one of the hardest things I've had to do and I knew there was a chance she might shoot the messenger.  Well she didn't at first but our friendship was never the same again.

They split up but he begged to her to let him back and promised he would change.  She wanted to know why he had so many secrets about his past and why couldn't she meet his family (he said his mother was now living in Australia).  So Kim looked his Mum up who happened to live 10 minutes away.  She went to see her and found out far more than she bargained for.

'Irish' John was born and bred in Tempe, in fact had never left the country.  He had no connections to Ireland whatsoever. It was just one big lie that had snowballed from an attempt to charm a girl in a pub.

It's been over 15 years now and I don't know what happened to Not-Irish John.  Kim went on with her life and got married and had children and is hopefully blissfully happy.  Even though we haven't kept in touch I don't regret telling her how she was deceived, that's what friends do.

[I started this story as a poem, but I'm waaaayyyy out of practice with rhyme - as you can see - and Mr Moneymaker said the story was too good not to tell in full.  So if you'd like to comment, please be gentle with my very badly written prose!  I also changed her name again so it would kinda rhyme.]

There was once a young woman called Bree,
Who loved to ride her horse through the trees.
One night she met a tall lad,
Who was Irish he said
And charmed her to her knees.

For many years together they rode,
Mostly happy in sharing the load.
But something seemed greatly amiss,
Troubles couldn't disappear with a kiss.

He drank too much beer
And Bree started to fear
That things did not seem as they appeared.

His past was a mystery,
He had no history,
Bree just wanted to meet his family!

But he told her they were in Ireland,
Where he was wanted and banned.
And that the IRA were somehow a fan.

Then he got busted at the footy in the back of Bree's car
Getting it on with a floosy from the bar.
And her friend let Bree know
He's not as clean as snow
And she threw his diamond ring very far.

He was lying from the start,
He was not Irish, not one part,
He used the accent to pick her up
And it snowballed too long to stop.

Joining up with Jess at SAHM

4 comments:

  1. Them Irish.... Great post and the poem was fantastic!!

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  2. Unbelievable!! How could he have kept up the act. I wouldn't be able to do it. I wonder if he is still pretending to be Irish?

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  3. I found this story so intriguing! Poor Kim, and in a way, poor Irish John. I wonder whatever became of him.

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  4. I dont know about Irish John or Kim, but take a look at that humongous snowball ! Ive always wanted to make one myself, but never managed to find the required help from some of my friends. And one cant roll down a huge snowball on his own :(

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