Ok. Story time...
Back in Rome, my favorite bar was a place called 'Scholar's Lounge'. A cool Irish pub owned by an Irish guy with curly red hair, named Declan. After a few months of hanging out at this place, I became pretty good friends with one of the bartenders, another Irish guy named Declan (or Deckie, as we called him).
One day, I stopped in for a pint and Deckie introduced me to his brother, Ronin, who had dropped in from Ireland to visit his bro. I chilled with Ronin for a few and we waited for Deckie to get off work. Once he did, we headed to Campo di Fiori for a few more pints.
So we're sitting on a patio in Campo and I'm just giggling at their accents, when Ronin starts giving Deckie crap for not taking the night off while he's in town. Deckie replies that he asked for the night off, but Declan wouldn't give it to him.
Ronin spits out "what do you expect, he's a G.D. ginge"
While they're having a little laugh, I'm a bit confused. So I say "a G.D. what?"
"ginge"
"what?"
"GINGE! A G.D. GINGE! WITH THE F'N RED HAIR, THE EVIL BUGGERS".
Woah. I admit I laughed at his hissy fit. It was pretty funny. But what I got out of that conversation is that people hate people for reasons as simple as the colour of their hair.
Lol. Ginge.
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