Why you shouldn't eat horse......

Like any good son would, I phoned my Dad the night before we flew to Paris. He was full of the usual fatherly advice about watching out for sneaky pickpockets and staying safe and all that. He truly does have a mortal fear/dislike of pickpockets, particularly in Dublin. Honestly every time you cross the border you get a twenty minute lecture about keeping your valuables safe lest one of the the many many gangs of street urchins and lovable rogues makes for your wallet or pocket watch. I haven't the heart to tell him they are more likely to stab you up the ass with a less than clean syringe than pick your pocket. And that's just from the craic let alone the crack.

Anyways any street urchin/pickpocket,whether they be a Dickensian character or not, will only be disappointed if they did make a move on my pocket as I only keep half eaten mints and cigarette papers in there.

But before Dad rang off the other evening he warned me off eating any horse meat.

"Really? Why so? I was hoping to try some!" I was so disappointed.

"No, no best avoided, it will give you the trots", says he.

"Really? Sake, I'm so annoyed at that."

About twelve hours later I finally got the joke.......d'oh.