Christmas entretainment

It was the night before Christmas Eve and even the mice were drinking.
We were having our seasonal tipple with old friends in one of panther’s favourite watering holes. A local pub, sparsely decorated, lit by stark bright white lights on one end and dimmer on the other (unexplored) end. A few fairy lights hung behind the bar, between the bottles and a few GAA photographs, a line of Christmas drunks were draped across the long bar.
We settled for the comfy seats by the Ladies’ toilets. Of a no longer identifiable colour, they still held the onion-ringish odour of their previous occupants. From that position my female companion and I had a good view of the talent. An unhealthy number of blokes were joining the line at the bar stools. Builders’ Christmas party: faces that only their mother would love and jeans hanging low holding unshapely arses. The boys didn’t fare any better. The few women, who hurried through to the dimmer area waiting for the music to start, looked like they’d eat you without salt and wash you down with a pint of lager. The music started. The karaoke inevitably followed.
Two fellas at the bar started poking at each other and, as inevitable as the karaoke, a cock fight broke out. The two roosters were quickly separated by others of the same species. Not that they would have been in any fit state to cause any damage other than by falling over, but an ‘oul fight is good entertainment. The local Tina singing “simply the Best” provided the sound track.
At this very moment, out of the mist of time a Christmassy whiff came in the door followed by three elderly representatives of the local old folks support group smiling and singing Christmas carols. They brought with them a bit of uncertain warmth out of the frosty night. Dressed in luminous vests and Santa hats they gingerly offered their collection buckets before being swallowed again back into the dream from whence they came. We contributed to their worthy cause and while the hand was in the pocket another round was bought.