Double Dutch

Stuck in a Dutch disco not enjoying myself much I’m nursing a drink it looks like coloured sick with an umbrella stuck on it. I take a sip and wince. A stunning blonde wearing a tight fitting tiny tee-shirt with Rod Stewart emblazoned upon it eyes me up...stops: I look up from my trying not to look see Rod Stewart grotesquely distorted by two giant mammary glands staring at me. Scary stuff! “Ahhh wake up Donall I think that she’s got something to say to you...” She smiles (politely) and asks (politely) in perfectly articulated English (so I couldn’t fail to understand) : “Have you got the time? ” Consulting my watch I tell her (awed into a hardly audible whisper) : “It’s half past ten! ” Her false eyelashes (she must have inherited from her mother) don’t even blink. She asks again. “No...have you...got the time? ! ” It’s half past...is she deaf or wot? Then it dawns... (like the theme from 2000 & 1) she’s asking me to dance. We take the floor attacking the music with our bodies. Under a glitter ball light slashes through our bodies releasing our souls into a new dimension. Blondie shrieks: “Ahhhhh...she’s no good….yeah rip her to shreds! ” She shrieks above the music: “What...is...your name? ” I scream back: “Dónall! ” She shouts: “What? ? ? ? ” I holler: “Dónall! ! ! ! ! ! ! ” The music stops. ...as if my voice had stopped it. My heart stops. She stops. She looks at me in horror: slaps me across the face stomps off thinks twice about it comes back turns to me and slaps the other cheek (she must be a Christian or something) . The visible imprint of her palm is branded upon my cheek. It glows in the dark. Everyone glowers at me as if I were one sick looking cocktail with an umbrella on top. Just then: “JE T’AMIME” comes on and all the couples cuddle congeal huddle into a dry hump hands clenched on rumps. I stand there like a prat (isolated & stunned) not knowing where it’s at. The smoochy couples leave a space (around me) as if I were catching. Every year (year after year) if I should happen to meet a person of Dutch origin I ask them (taking first a cautionary step back) : “Please, now don’t’ take offence but what does Donall mean in Dutch? ” I cringe and wince anticipating the blow. They stare at me in horror and, say: “Nothing...why? ” “Oh nothing...that’s ok! ” I smile. Both they & I thinking now what the f**k was all that about then?