c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-13–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-12–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-11–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-10–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-9–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-8–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-7–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-6–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-5–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-4–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-3–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-2–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-1–>c505218304b50c59c3659f6dda43bae7-links-0–>span style=”font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;”>The story of the nicknames reminds me of another one concerning a gentleman whose nickname was Jazzer. He drank with the lads from Newry Celtic ….
…… and one day many years ago he decided that he had had enough …well more to the point his new wife had had enough – because she hated being called Mrs Jazzer.
And so on a Sunday morning in the Hibs he put his plan into action.
All his pals were there. After about an hour’s drinking he addressed the multitude:
In all the years I have known you I have never asked any one of you for a favour!!!
Is this correct?‘
‘No! You haven’t, Jazzer. That is correct!‘ chorused the motley crew.
‘Well I now have a favour to ask you.
From now on I do not want to be called Jazzer.
I want to be addressed by the name I was christened with.
Is that OK?‘
‘No problem, Jazzer.
If you don‘t want to be called Jazzer, then we will not call you Jazzer.‘
This from the people’s spokesman, Hugh.
‘Thank you all. You don‘t know how much this means to me.‘
‘Look Jazzer! We are sorry if calling you Jazzer upset you but, as from this day, you will never be called Jazzer by members of Newry Celtic.
Isn‘t that right boys?‘
the name Jazzer will never again be uttered by us, Jazzer!‘ they all shouted.
‘In honour of this day, Jazzer, I think it only proper you should buy a round,‘
said Hugh – more to the gang than to Jazzer.
‘OK I will! And then I‘ll have to go.‘
When the drinks arrived, Jazzer stood there and the toast was made.
‘To Jazzer…thanks Jazzer for everything…we will never forget you, Jazzer.’
He left the club with his nickname being sung out for all to hear.
But he was a happy man. He had got rid of the nickname forever. He could tell his wife that she would never be called Mrs Jazzer again.
It was only when he was putting the key in the door that it came to him…
not once did any one of his friends call him by the name he was christened with.
‘Ah, well’, he sighed philosophically.
‘There’s always tomorrow.’
… distilleries of old …
… distilleries of old …