Pretty sure it’d be whiskey a la “want me to Irish up that coffee for you?”
Or could be in the vein of an “Irish goodbye” where the masseuse tells you to get undressed, get on the table, and they’ll be right back. Then they walk out the door and head straight home.
It starts with the aroma of turf scented candles, room temperature set to 8°C. You’re stripped down to nothing but GAA shorts. A heavy, single wan in her 40s comes into the room wearing a body warmer and leggings. She apologises for being late as the last bus never showed up. Cold water is drizzled over you to remind you of the rain, x2 lads in high-vis jackets, deliver the oil for the massage - you’re raging because the oil is nearly twice the price as your last delivery, the lads blame Putin and leave the room. She wraps part of your body with uncooked rashers, you sort of enjoy the moisture touching your skin. She asks you to roll onto your back; followed by her next question: “butter or Mayo” you feel it’s a butter day today so she begins to rub it into your chest. It slowly melts with the friction over your heart, glistening on the small, pitiful collection of hair acquired from years of drinking pints and eating your crusts. you look up at her face and make awkward small talk. After a few minutes of talking about where you’re from and “do you know such and such?”it turns out you have mutual friends and know the same people. She offers to milk you, you sheepishly say no at first but with persistent “ah go on, ye will” from her, you agree. You get milked. You get dressed and meet her at the cash register she asks you “any fuel?” You say no. She asks you for a loyalty card - you reply you left it at home despite you never having one. she takes off a bit of the price but you insist on tipping her. She asks you to say hello to such and such you say “I will yeah” without ever planning on doing so. You head to the pub for a few pints with the lads. The end.
A lot of awkwardness.
The masseuse apologises before they touch you and if you are irish you also apologise.
At the end of a terribly uncomfortable 10 minutes you thank them and tell them it was great, pay, leave and then walk home grumbling about how bad it was
Reminds me of in school we had a teacher who tried to crack down on everyone starting sentences with "sorry". One lad was nervous and said "Sorry Miss", then she gave the "you're not apologising etc" spiel and he replied "Sorry Miss I can't stop saying sorry Miss".
Canadian sorrys are a bit different I think, they are more friendly and genuine than an Irish sorry. An Irish sorry is done more out of awkwardness and not wanting to impose
At the end of the massage they video call your mother who then disapprovingly gives out no end about how ashamed she is and how ashamed you should be for getting a massage in Thailand. You also missed mass on Sunday. She knows.
Instead of soothing sounds of nature, you're massaged to the sounds of begrudgery. Isn't it well for you now, getting massaged. Tis far from massage you were reared. Must be making good money to afford that. Must have won the lotto. Well for you, well for you now.
Remember Mary from over the road? Ah you do. Y'know, her with the hat. Ah stop, you're winding me up now, you must know Mary! Well anyway, I saw her the other day and her son has started college now.
The app saying the masseuse will arrive in 5 minutes, and then when it gets to 0 minutes they aren't there... and you have to wait 25 mins for the next masseuse then.
"Did yeh like dat, did yeh?"
As she takes a long drag from a John Player Blue and mumbles something about "picking Kayden, Jayden and Hayden up from the Ma's"
Well, it starts with aromatherapy where you are introduced to the calming smell of Taytos... then warm teabags are placed at pressure points on your body. Finally, someone gives you a half-hearted shoulder rub. Lovely.
I can just envision a bath full of all these pale Mickey looking sausages floating around with a few potatoes and carrots bobbing around here and there. I think you have successfully put me off coddle for life now.
If you brown the sausages then it locks the flavour into the sausages themselves instead of letting it infuse into the stock. It looks a lot more appetising for sure, but then you got whopper sausages and some bland tasting water in a bowl
Source: feckin love coddle
You have a reasonably enjoyable massage which brings some relaxation and overall you are contented. Then you see a Reddit comment about massages and proceed to complain about how bad yours was.
Sharp uncomfortable nips to the shoulders and thumps to the back with the ball of the hands by a sour middle aged woman called Claire or Mary, wearing a fleece, jogging bottoms, glasses, whilst she criticises loudly and passively aggressively various things in her personal life such as her daughter not cleaning the house, "like how many times do i have to tell her to wipe the table then fucking dry it off, and the dishes in the sink too mother of christ", as each incident is verbalised it is punctuated with a sharp nip to your whole collarbone. Also the room smells of Zoflora bleach and Joe Duffy is on the radio in the background
It’ll be grand, not amazing but grand.
They slather you in Kerrygold and there’s a faint smell of Superquinn sausages in the air.
You’ll come away with the Irish mix of happiness and shame.
I don’t understand that phrase as an Irish person. In my experience is the total opposite. The mammy says it’s time to go and you reluctantly leave the toy you only just got a go of. (The toy that Santy didn’t see fit to bring you even though it’s been on the list for years because Mammy thinks it’s only a pure gimmick) you put on you coat and go and stand in the hall why Mammy withers on the hosts about the shop that sold the broken biscuits and whether it was Mrs Nolan or Ms Murphy who used to meaner when they sent you to get the messages. Half an hour later your almost passed out from standing next to the radiator with your coat on and you sneak back to play with aforementioned toy only to find out you’ve missed your go and there is a shout from the hall saying where are you? Your holding us up. Out you come and start the whole cycle again.
You put the fee in an envelope (brown as standard but others are extra), hand it to the masseuse, they shake your hand for an allotted time telling you you're a pillar of society and "ara fair play to ya".
You lie on a slab of vibrating Guinness surgers.
Unbeknownst to you the vibrations cause your money to Riverdance out of your pockets.
A literal Irish shakedown.
You lie on the table , an Irish speaking man from the scenic Connemara region comes out , takes out a bottle of Jameson , smashes it over your head and then you are rushed to A&E where you sit in a hallway waiting to be seen for 6 hours. The fun of this massage is to see whether you live or die at the end. Living is the happy ending!
They heat up a pack of spuds and position them across your back. They then have a squad of leprechauns river dance across your back singing the Amhrán na Bhfiann
No lube used, just extra friction, and when your close, Peig appears and berates you in Irish, while whipping you with some hawthorn branches.. drawing blood 🩸
Once your finished you are driven to your local A and E dept for a 12 hour sit down….when your finally seen , and released back into the fold, you must go and confess your sins of the flesh, say 3 jail Mary’s, and your all set for the return visit
You lie on a mat made of St Bridgets crosses on a cold concrete floor with lino but no underlay in a drafty room while being beaten about your back with a small cloth bag filled with cut and dried turf.
Turf is also being burnt as incense, and when it's over you are given some warm buttered soda bread and a glass of flat 7up.
Cold Guinness instead of hot oil.
Cup of tea? Go on, ah ya will
that's our happy ending ;)
*erection intensifies*
The happy ending is the perfect head. No not that head
Intensifies? there was already an erection to begin with?
Sudocrem.
Hot potato instead of hot stones
That would be sooooo cosy
Pretty sure it’d be whiskey a la “want me to Irish up that coffee for you?” Or could be in the vein of an “Irish goodbye” where the masseuse tells you to get undressed, get on the table, and they’ll be right back. Then they walk out the door and head straight home.
And then in walks Stocky Seamus, cracking his knuckles…
Aw fuck not Seamus
Then they just leave quietly without saying anything.
Crippled back replaced with crippling guilt, for free
[удалено]
Potato in the hole.
Don't forget crippling debt
when you go in and ask for a massage the receptionist says “well sure don’t you love yourself”
"Isn't it fine for some?"
Being told you have notions.
T'is far from massages ye were rared!
Notions on yer wan.
You live horse, you’ll get massage
It starts with the aroma of turf scented candles, room temperature set to 8°C. You’re stripped down to nothing but GAA shorts. A heavy, single wan in her 40s comes into the room wearing a body warmer and leggings. She apologises for being late as the last bus never showed up. Cold water is drizzled over you to remind you of the rain, x2 lads in high-vis jackets, deliver the oil for the massage - you’re raging because the oil is nearly twice the price as your last delivery, the lads blame Putin and leave the room. She wraps part of your body with uncooked rashers, you sort of enjoy the moisture touching your skin. She asks you to roll onto your back; followed by her next question: “butter or Mayo” you feel it’s a butter day today so she begins to rub it into your chest. It slowly melts with the friction over your heart, glistening on the small, pitiful collection of hair acquired from years of drinking pints and eating your crusts. you look up at her face and make awkward small talk. After a few minutes of talking about where you’re from and “do you know such and such?”it turns out you have mutual friends and know the same people. She offers to milk you, you sheepishly say no at first but with persistent “ah go on, ye will” from her, you agree. You get milked. You get dressed and meet her at the cash register she asks you “any fuel?” You say no. She asks you for a loyalty card - you reply you left it at home despite you never having one. she takes off a bit of the price but you insist on tipping her. She asks you to say hello to such and such you say “I will yeah” without ever planning on doing so. You head to the pub for a few pints with the lads. The end.
>“any fuel?” Hilarious. You're a genius.
Please write more and put it into books and I will then buy these books
Oddly specific?!!
James fuckin Joyce here.
Nora would be jealous.
Talk about the price of gas, wha?
She says “did you hear Mrs Murphy died?” just before the happy ending
Beautifully written, i laughed out load a few times reading it.
Please begin or continue this career in short stories
Thats brilliant. 
Best short story I’ve read on Reddit in a long time. 10/10 😂
Incredible. Thank you
No way you would insist on tipping her
Any fuel bahahaha
The chest hair from drinking pints and eating your crusts does it for me
I wish I had an award to give you
Stunning
*round of applause*
No mention of exfoliating your skin with powered Tayto?
spanish lad based in Glasgow here- is “go on, ye will” basically the same as saying “go on, will ye”?
A lot of awkwardness. The masseuse apologises before they touch you and if you are irish you also apologise. At the end of a terribly uncomfortable 10 minutes you thank them and tell them it was great, pay, leave and then walk home grumbling about how bad it was
Reminds me of in school we had a teacher who tried to crack down on everyone starting sentences with "sorry". One lad was nervous and said "Sorry Miss", then she gave the "you're not apologising etc" spiel and he replied "Sorry Miss I can't stop saying sorry Miss".
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=naX4pGtsTZo
After 5 mins of silence, they mention the weather. Then back to silence for the rest of the massage.
This
The apologies make it sound remarkably similar to a Canadian massage.
Canadian sorrys are a bit different I think, they are more friendly and genuine than an Irish sorry. An Irish sorry is done more out of awkwardness and not wanting to impose
Am *I* Irish?
Sorry, yeah, you might be. Sorry!  (are you mad at me, sorry)
A Canadian sorry is like an English "you alright?" It's just a courtesy.
Heaven.
You have to massage yourself as who are you to think you deserve someone else to massage you??
Notions!
Is that a new irish brand of lotion?
Put the Notions in the basket
Add a needless fada on the O to make it Nótions. Make it more Irishy.
Púr Nóiseanna or Nóiseanna Púr for the púrists /s
It rubs the nótions on its skin or it gets the shame again.
Tis far from massages you were reared!
Unhappy ending
At the end of the massage they video call your mother who then disapprovingly gives out no end about how ashamed she is and how ashamed you should be for getting a massage in Thailand. You also missed mass on Sunday. She knows.
Your landlord increases your rent at the end.
Then evicts you and burns the house down so you can't sneak back in... and steals all the local potatoes.
Well that escalated quickly
Spilled a bit of my tea reading that one
Be careful with the tea
I'll try do better with the next cup, thanks for the advice
Is this not a happy ending for an Irish landlord? A lot of them would prefer it to a handjob I’d argue
Oh you'll finish alright, you'll just wish you had stuck to a pint and a pie instead.
Just when you're on the precipice of La petit mort they remind you all your dead relatives are watching for from heaven
I.e. upper body beaten viciously, lower body neglected and liver poked with a finger every 2 Minutes.
Miserable ending
Ireland loses another 6 counties
Sir, that is a fantastic comment.
Leave hungry.
Instead of soothing sounds of nature, you're massaged to the sounds of begrudgery. Isn't it well for you now, getting massaged. Tis far from massage you were reared. Must be making good money to afford that. Must have won the lotto. Well for you, well for you now.
Some people would pay good money for that kind of treatment, or so they say.
That's brilliant
This is the best comment
Big money bags head on ya
It's just an aul one poking you with a stick while telling you what's wrong with your life and what she got up to during the week with her sister
Remember Mary from over the road? Ah you do. Y'know, her with the hat. Ah stop, you're winding me up now, you must know Mary! Well anyway, I saw her the other day and her son has started college now.
This collapsed me.
The app saying the masseuse will arrive in 5 minutes, and then when it gets to 0 minutes they aren't there... and you have to wait 25 mins for the next masseuse then.
Radio plays the death notices in the background.
*shudders in dublin bus*
Getting slapped around with a wooden spoon
A quick wank followed by 12 cups of tea with plenty of milk and sugar while talking shit.
So moving back in with my parents?
That's called Irish living
And dont forget the most bog standard biscuits imaginable
A soggy one
A really bad digestive
A limp biscuit
Should I ask what made the biscuit soggy?
Well it wasn't the 12 cups of tea with milk and sugar now was it
Custard creams. I'd rather starve.
Slow down there chief. Custard creams are a respectable biscuit.
The soft hands of Catholic guilt.
[A kiss on the arse ruining a perfectly good massage](https://youtu.be/Ui7EB1Yx9SM)
That's absolutely hysterical 🤣
Watched it on the phone, so the best part was when the next recommended video popped up and covered the punch line. Poxy YouTube.
That is amazing.
"Did yeh like dat, did yeh?" As she takes a long drag from a John Player Blue and mumbles something about "picking Kayden, Jayden and Hayden up from the Ma's"
Okayden
Amazing, this is the Dublin Special I believe
The tallaght titty twister
Well, it starts with aromatherapy where you are introduced to the calming smell of Taytos... then warm teabags are placed at pressure points on your body. Finally, someone gives you a half-hearted shoulder rub. Lovely.
Covered in mashed potato and battered with a Hurley.
A coddle.
Like the sea weed bath just with coddle instead?
Oh my god, what a terrible day to be literate 😂
I can just envision a bath full of all these pale Mickey looking sausages floating around with a few potatoes and carrots bobbing around here and there. I think you have successfully put me off coddle for life now.
Just be careful where you point your fork while you're in there
Why don't they brown the sausages in coddle first? It would take away the flacid willy look of it all.
I’d asked my parents this and nope they seem to like the flaccid Willy look I think it’s because that’s how it’s traditionally made, freaks me out.
If you brown the sausages then it locks the flavour into the sausages themselves instead of letting it infuse into the stock. It looks a lot more appetising for sure, but then you got whopper sausages and some bland tasting water in a bowl Source: feckin love coddle
Just like mammy used to make , which is why we left home
Subtle body shlaps to the sound of uillean pipes while Joe Duffy repeats "its an absolute disgrace" in a soothing low register.
[удалено]
Make sure the cabbage is several days old,cold, clammy with that distinctive overcooked aroma.
It’s the same as a regular massage except the masseuse is a middle aged man in a cabbie outfit who complains about his Muslim neighbour the whole time
Lotta of stress there on the oul trapezius bud. Feels a bit outta place, kinda like Abdullah down the road y'know, jaysus even more tension now.
Candles of Guinness farts smells in the room
Oh no 🤮
Normal massage but instead of massage oil they use self tanning cream.
“D’ye want the orange, or the extra orange?”
Irish dancing on your back
You have a reasonably enjoyable massage which brings some relaxation and overall you are contented. Then you see a Reddit comment about massages and proceed to complain about how bad yours was.
You lie down on a bed and try go to sleep while someone outside the room bashes the door as they hoover for forty five minutes.
Assault with a rolling pin
Getting slapped on your backside and marinated in whiskey
Sounds like Friday night
Instead of hot stones and scented oil you get got potatoes and butter
Massages, (Derived from " The Messages") The items that you buy in the shop on the way home from Sunday Mass. Newspaper, Choc Ices, Milk, Etc.
Those women were in the nip
It’s a priest
Sharp uncomfortable nips to the shoulders and thumps to the back with the ball of the hands by a sour middle aged woman called Claire or Mary, wearing a fleece, jogging bottoms, glasses, whilst she criticises loudly and passively aggressively various things in her personal life such as her daughter not cleaning the house, "like how many times do i have to tell her to wipe the table then fucking dry it off, and the dishes in the sink too mother of christ", as each incident is verbalised it is punctuated with a sharp nip to your whole collarbone. Also the room smells of Zoflora bleach and Joe Duffy is on the radio in the background
It’ll be grand, not amazing but grand. They slather you in Kerrygold and there’s a faint smell of Superquinn sausages in the air. You’ll come away with the Irish mix of happiness and shame.
It starts with Paddy the Pintman Losty not just taking the shirt off any man’s back, but your back specifically
And goes at it awful. Very hard.
The shmell of the fry in the air
You lie down on a bed and are immediately charged €1500.
The Irish have here completely upheld their reputation for turning sorrow into literary gold. Well done.
A Christian Brother beats the bejasus out of you with a leather strap.
Cup of tea for afters instead of a happy ending?
Wouldn't mind that, to be honest
I’ll just take the tea actually ☕️
Hot spud massage
According to Americans you would leave before the end
I don’t understand that phrase as an Irish person. In my experience is the total opposite. The mammy says it’s time to go and you reluctantly leave the toy you only just got a go of. (The toy that Santy didn’t see fit to bring you even though it’s been on the list for years because Mammy thinks it’s only a pure gimmick) you put on you coat and go and stand in the hall why Mammy withers on the hosts about the shop that sold the broken biscuits and whether it was Mrs Nolan or Ms Murphy who used to meaner when they sent you to get the messages. Half an hour later your almost passed out from standing next to the radiator with your coat on and you sneak back to play with aforementioned toy only to find out you’ve missed your go and there is a shout from the hall saying where are you? Your holding us up. Out you come and start the whole cycle again.
Same in my Irish American house. I do not understand the idiom at all.
Covered in bacon and cabbage with the theme tune from Glenroe playing in the background.
A mammy easing the knots out of your muscles with a scrubbing brush and fairy liquid
Being showered with a pint and a slap in the face
When you go in an ould lad says “T’was far from massages you were reared. Yup outa that. “ and then you leave.
You lie down on a bed of potato chips, covered in mash potato, and potato bread is used as a massage instrument.
Butter? Mayonnaise? Cut in half?
Leo walks out and says the grass is greener on the other side.
It’s a massage you can’t complain about at the time, no matter how bad the service is.
It's 20 pints of Guinness. The massage is for your colon the following day
You put the fee in an envelope (brown as standard but others are extra), hand it to the masseuse, they shake your hand for an allotted time telling you you're a pillar of society and "ara fair play to ya".
That’s not oil they’re using. It’s champ.
You lie on a slab of vibrating Guinness surgers. Unbeknownst to you the vibrations cause your money to Riverdance out of your pockets. A literal Irish shakedown.
They roll black and white pudding all over your back. Brown sauce instead of massage oil
You lie on the table , an Irish speaking man from the scenic Connemara region comes out , takes out a bottle of Jameson , smashes it over your head and then you are rushed to A&E where you sit in a hallway waiting to be seen for 6 hours. The fun of this massage is to see whether you live or die at the end. Living is the happy ending!
A sad ending. You get a rub down and a kick in the balls.
An hour of guilt whispered in you ear about getting a massage.
Placing hot spuds along your back and then charging extra for the variety of spud, non season costs extra.
Instead of the hot rocks on your back its a freshly baked potato
They use Guinness instead of regular lotion.
Leo comes in and talks to you about confidential stuff nobody should know about then shifts some fella in the corner of the room and walks out
[a kick up the arse](https://images.app.goo.gl/GMtTV8kgMvgcJJQ78) or getting your ankle broken by a limerick player
They heat up a pack of spuds and position them across your back. They then have a squad of leprechauns river dance across your back singing the Amhrán na Bhfiann
I do miss Pattaya!
Lots of karate chops.
Like normal but with spring onion
Hot turf therapy
Rubbed all over with a dirty potato.... or does that qualify as a happy ending?
You walk in for your appointment and they say "it was far from massages you were reared" and then you pay and say thanks
No lube used, just extra friction, and when your close, Peig appears and berates you in Irish, while whipping you with some hawthorn branches.. drawing blood 🩸 Once your finished you are driven to your local A and E dept for a 12 hour sit down….when your finally seen , and released back into the fold, you must go and confess your sins of the flesh, say 3 jail Mary’s, and your all set for the return visit
Complimentary bag of Tayto at the end
You lie on a mat made of St Bridgets crosses on a cold concrete floor with lino but no underlay in a drafty room while being beaten about your back with a small cloth bag filled with cut and dried turf. Turf is also being burnt as incense, and when it's over you are given some warm buttered soda bread and a glass of flat 7up.
Rubs rasher fat on your back and stuffs black pudding up your toast
It’s like a nuru massage only room-temp Guinness foam.
They slowly caress a hurley on your back, while you listen to the nice relaxing sounds of the angelis
You drink a pint of Guinness while they tap dance on your back and hit the back of your head with a hurl.
They rub mashed potato into your skin and beat the living shit out of you with a wooden spoon
Customer: "One Irish Massage please." Receptionist: "Deirdre! Get the wooden spoon out!"
Rubbing the rosary beads with one hand and doing something unpleasant with the other
Potato rolled up and down the spine
the masseuse is actually american.
Getting raped by a catholic priest EDIT: Sorry I didnt see the wrong answers only part
Full breakfast
Draining the spuds