Chapter 5: The Ring of Kerry BBQ & Bullseye Competition
Chapter 5: The Ring of Kerry BBQ & Bullseye Competition
After their legendary pub antics in Maynooth, Sgt. Salty and his misfit squad needed fresh air, open space, and a setting grand enough for their next adventure. So naturally, the convoy (one Leopard 2 and three cars stuffed with snacks, prosecco, and camping gear) thundered its way to the Ring of Kerry.
Locals peered out of cottage windows as the tank rumbled by. Sheep scattered into the hills. And by the time the squad rolled into a grassy clearing overlooking the ocean, Salty clapped his hands and announced:
“Troops! Tonight we camp, we feast, and we compete! Welcome to the first annual Ring of Kerry Misfit Games.”
Setting the Scene
The campsite looked like a cross between a NATO base and a music festival. Sarah and Susan pitched a tent with military precision, Yasmine decorated it with fairy lights and prosecco coolers, and Ye Olde Large Lad built a BBQ pit big enough to roast a cow.
McFinleyyy, true to form, immediately declared himself “Minister for Charcoal” and nearly set his own eyebrows on fire. Meanwhile, WhizzAir Winky kept asking if the tent pegs were “load-bearing,” and Squallshy wandered into the woods muttering about “mushroom diplomacy.”
By sundown, the fire crackled, burgers sizzled, and cans of Dutch’s Finest were cracked open in unison.
Enter the Locals
It didn’t take long for the locals to join. Drawn by the smell of BBQ and the sound of Yasmine blasting ABBA from a portable speaker, half the parish turned up. Farmers, fishermen, and a group of teenagers with questionable haircuts all mingled with the misfits.
One old fella in a flat cap declared, “Sure I thought ye were filming a new Vikings spin-off, with all the tents and weapons.”
Salty grinned. “Close enough, lad. But tonight, we’ve got something better than Netflix… we’ve got competition.”
The Bullseye Challenge 🎯
Salty unveiled a brand-new target: a giant wooden bullseye, painted bright red and propped up on hay bales. “Tonight’s challenge,” he announced, “is simple: who can hit the bullseye with a bow and arrow. Locals versus misfits. Winner takes… bragging rights and the last pack of Taytos.”
The crowd roared.
Round 1: The Misfits
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WhizzAir Winky went first. He pulled the bowstring, aimed bravely, and promptly shot his arrow backwards into the BBQ, skewering a sausage. Applause erupted.
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McFinleyyy shouted “For Galway!” before releasing his arrow directly into the turf two feet away. “I was testing wind speed!” he insisted.
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Funji Squallshy didn’t even aim — he closed his eyes, whispered something mystical, and somehow hit the hay bale dead centre. “Beginner’s luck,” grumbled Winky.
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Ye Olde Large Lad simply snapped the bow in half while trying to pull it. He then threw the arrow by hand, and it stuck into the target. Close enough.
Round 2: The Locals
The Kerry crowd weren’t about to be shown up.
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A teenage lad with a mullet nailed the outer ring. His friends cheered like he’d just won the World Cup.
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A farmer in wellies muttered “hold my pint,” calmly drew the bow, and landed square in the bullseye. The crowd erupted.
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Then Granny O’Shea — who claimed she hadn’t held a bow since the “field games of ’52” — stepped up, pulled the string, and BULLSEYE. The misfits gasped. The locals carried her off like a champion gladiator.
BBQ Banter
While the competition heated up, the BBQ turned into its own battlefront. Large Lad flipped burgers the size of manhole covers, Sarah ran quality control, and Susan demanded every bun come with “at least three sauces.” Yasmine, meanwhile, had cornered half the locals into a prosecco-tasting session.
“Beer is for basics,” she declared, topping up glasses. “Bubbles are for champions.”
McFinleyyy, sauce dripping down his chin, tried to woo Yasmine with a burger shaped like a love heart. “For you, m’lady.”
She took one look, handed it to a passing dog, and winked. “Nice try.”
Romance Sparks 💒
As the fire crackled under the Kerry stars, Salty took a quiet walk with Sarah and Susan down to the shoreline. The tank loomed in the distance, lit up with fairy lights courtesy of Yasmine.
“Ladies,” Salty said with surprising sincerity, “a man could conquer castles and crush targets, but without good company, what’s it all for?”
Susan rolled her eyes but smiled. Sarah nudged him and said, “Careful, Sergeant. If you’re getting sentimental, we’ll tell the lads.”
Still, for a moment, the chaos gave way to something softer — the sea breeze, the stars, and three comrades who had become much more than just a squad.
Back at the campfire, Yasmine spotted them returning and shouted, “Oi, lovebirds, we’re out of marshmallows!” Romance over.
Salty’s Final Speech
Later that night, with bellies full and locals happily staggering home, Salty stood on the Leopard 2 turret, Guinness in hand.
“Comrades, locals, and Granny O’Shea — tonight we proved once again that the misfits can take on anyone, anywhere. We trained, we feasted, and we watched a granny humble us all with a bow and arrow. Let it be known across Kerry: the Misfit Games are now tradition!”
The cheer echoed off the Kerry mountains. Fireworks (well, Squallshy’s vape clouds lit by fairy lights) filled the night sky. The Ring of Kerry had never seen anything like it.
SEO Bonus Takeaway
For anyone searching Ring of Kerry BBQ, funny Irish camping story, bow and arrow competition in Kerry, or Sgt. Salty misfit squad adventures, here’s what you need to know:
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The Ring of Kerry is more than a tourist route — it’s a playground for tanks, BBQs, and improvised archery tournaments.
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Locals bring the skill, misfits bring the chaos, and Granny O’Shea brings the bullseye.
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After every hard day’s work (or destruction), Sgt. Salty proves that the best rewards are good food, good drink, and great company.
Final Thoughts
Chapter 5 showed that the misfit squad can mix it with locals, light up Kerry, and still find time for beers and banter under the stars. With Sarah, Susan, and Yasmine adding fire to the fun, the squad has never been livelier.
Where next? Rumour has it Galway’s Spanish Arch is on the horizon… and if a Leopard 2 rolls through Eyre Square, history will never forget it.
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