Last month, I attended an awesome US vaudeville show called Pretty Things Peepshow. The amazing crew that is Dr. Sketchys Dublin hosted the event at The Twisted Pepper. There was burlesque, and circus tricks, drinking and a little lady person swallowing balloons that were three times as long as her body. I had front row seats and the time of my fucking life.

Video: The End Of The Night (that IS me screaming with joy)

Then I got outside afterwards and turned my phone on.

‘Please bring home baby Neurofen’, flashed up on my phone.

I checked the clock – it was just after 11. I was pretty sure that the chemist on Dame Street was open til midnight so I shot over in the car. Doors closed. Shiiit. Phonecalls home were getting a little more upsetting, as I could hear Jacob crying away in the background, who had a high temperature and a sore throat.

‘Have we seriously got no drugs in the house?!’ I asked Ass Monkey.

‘None. Not a Calpol, not a Neurofen, not even that weird Phenergen stuff that certain folks use to sedate their kids with for a good nights’ sleep’, he replied.

Silence descended on our phonecall, aside from, of course, Jacob’s constant wails in the background. He had been sick for three days and we hadn’t topped up the baby drugs supplies. We were shit parents.

I got out of the car and went searching, keeping Ass Monkey on the line for updates, and for the Anneka Rice-like dramatic effect, so my boys would know how serious I was about my mission.

‘Jacob!!’ I yelled down the phone, running towards George’s Street. ‘Don’t worry – I promise mammy is going to get some drugs for you!’. I’m pretty sure two junkies, one prostitute and one lesbian headed for The George started following me at that point.

I burst into the Centra on the corner of Dame and George’s Street, frantically searching all the shelves behind the counter.

‘Seriously – they sell condoms here, whiskey, Gaviscon, paracetamol and hairspray – but no fucking baby Neurofen. What is wrong with this picture?!’ I shouted to Ass Monkey down the phone, trying to rack my brains for the next best plan. ‘Ok, who do we know who has a baby who lives nearby? We need somebody who has a baby and some fucking drugs!’

Again, not the greatest of things to be shouting about in public.

However, as fate would have it, at that precise moment, I heard my name being called. I turned, and who did I see but my good pal Sorcha, who had just been on a night out with the girls, and who had just had babba number 2.

‘Great to see you, you look amazing (she did), hope the babies are great….Em, any chance I can score some drugs off you?!’

Cut to twenty minutes later and I’m driving around the dark Rialto streets trying to find Sorcha’s house. She’s given her hubby the heads up that I’m on the way, and I’ve let Ass Monkey know that mammy has it sorted.

As I pulled away from Sorcha and Kieron’s house, with my half bottle of Baby Neurofen, a couple of suppositories and a handful of chamomile tabs, I thought about how lucky we are to know such great people and how serendipitious it can be to live in Dublin sometimes.  How amazing that I would have actually met the one person that I needed that night to help get Jacob back on track, temperature down and feeling well again.

But also, how it was the WEIRDEST drug run I’ve ever done in my life ;o)

 

**PS I’m told that Boots in Blanchardstown Village Old S.C. opens til midnight.

**PPS I’m also told that Tesco in Dundrum is 24 hours and sell Calpol

**PPPS We currently have 3 bottles of Calpol and 4 bottles of Baby Neurofen in our press. That’s not to say we won’t get caught again, but we’ll try not to ;o)