I’m raising a glass of Irish whiskey to the 13 border control personnel who told the “Russian warship” what to do. Salute!
You said the magic word, Irish Whiskey, I’ll drink to that! Make it a double!
Now, if ya like, we can go back to my place and Mrs. Doyle will make us a fine cup o’ tea. After that I’ve got an old bottle of peated single malt Connemara, The Bishops Tears, 24 Year Old that needs crackin’ open. Perhaps you’d like to join me in disposing of the evil liquid. Ya have to drink it down once’t you’ve opened the bottle, before it goes off, ya know. Some things never change, it like gun dogs by the fire place once they settle in you’ll not move ‘em.