The Adventures of McFinleyyy
Chapter 4: The Night of Goals and Giggles
By the time the squad spilled out of Connolly Station, Dublin was alive. The streets pulsed with the hum of Friday night: chatter spilling from pubs, neon lights glowing off wet cobblestones, and taxi drivers leaning out their windows yelling, “Ye won’t get in anywhere dressed like that!”
At the center of it all? McFinleyyy, naturally. Shirt still half-buttoned, aura still magnetic, and, surprisingly, now trailed by the woman everyone still swore was Alicia Silverstone.
Women Doing What Women Do
The first stop wasn’t even a pub—it was the huddle outside. That sacred moment where everyone checks they’ve got their wallets, phones, and just enough dignity left to negotiate entry fees.
And while the lads were debating whether Winky should even be allowed to speak to a bouncer (history said no), Alicia had already gravitated toward Sarah and Susan.
It was instant. Like magnets.
Sarah: “So, are you really Alicia Silverstone?”
Alicia: laughs “Not quite. But I’ll take the compliment.”
Susan: “Well, if you were, we’d definitely be your entourage tonight.”
The three locked in fast. Compliments were exchanged, shoes were admired, stories swapped. It was textbook: women building that invisible fortress of sisterhood that makes nights out feel safe, fun, and unshakeable.
“See?” McFinleyyy said to the lads. “Told you she’d blend right in.”
Ye Olde Large Lad shrugged. “As long as she can hold a pint and scream at a referee, she’s in.”
Mission: Football ⚽
Because while the squad lived for chaos, they also lived for football. And tonight wasn’t just any match. It was Ireland vs. Hungary.
The pub they entered was rammed wall-to-wall, screens glowing green, pints foaming, the air thick with chants.
“COYBIG!” roared Whizzair, leading the charge.
“Hungary’s goin’ hungry tonight!” bellowed Ye Olde Large Lad, to absolutely no one in particular.
They crammed around a sticky table, balancing pints and packets of crisps like pros. McFinleyyy took the seat with the best line of sight—both to the big screen and to Alicia/Sarah/Susan, who were already laughing at Winky’s terrible attempt to explain the offside rule.
The Match
The game was chaos. Ireland scored early, the pub erupted, and Winky ended up hugging a stranger so tightly the man’s pint exploded.
Then Hungary equalized, and the air turned sour. Someone near the bar screamed, “Ref, your eyes are painted on!” while Ye Olde Large Lad ordered another round for “tactical reasons.”
Second half? More drama. Ireland pulled ahead 2–1, and McFinleyyy actually ended up leading a chant. Alicia (or Not-Alicia) joined in, her valley-girl “COYBIG!” cracking the lads up mid-song.
But with five minutes left, Hungary equalized again. Final whistle: 2–2.
The pub groaned collectively, but Sgt. Salty stood tall, pint raised like a general rallying his troops.
“We didn’t lose,” he declared. “We survived. And survival, lads and ladies, is the key to nightlife.”
The whole table cheered. Even Sarah and Susan toasted. Even Alicia.
Pub Banter
By now, Alicia was officially squad-certified. She and Sarah disappeared to the bathroom together like they’d known each other ten years, Susan was coaching Quags through the heartbreak of the draw, and Winky was already telling anyone who’d listen that “Batgirl herself” was drinking with them.
McFinleyyy? He leaned back in his chair, scanning the pub like a man surveying his kingdom.
“You know what’s mad?” he said. “A few hours ago I nearly stayed in bed with a Lemsip. Now I’m watching Ireland draw with Hungary, surrounded by legends and Hollywood lookalikes.”
Salty clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the McFinleyyy effect. Destiny never lets you stay home.”
Cliffhanger
As the crowd spilled out of the pub, chanting in mixed frustration and pride, Alicia tugged McFinleyyy’s sleeve.
“So… what’s next?” she asked with that smile that suggested trouble.
McFinleyyy grinned. “Next? We find a dancefloor.”
But just as they turned the corner, a rival squad appeared. And not just any squad—the dreaded Ballymun Boys.
The night was about to level up.
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