Monobligatory

When I saw this loquacious young chap in his dinner jacket, white shirt and black bow tie, I felt compelled to ask for his photograph with a pint of Guinness.
I lent him the prop (he was drinking some watered down urine masquerading as lager with a name that begins a bit like Karl and ends a bit like bleurgh)

The hardest part was to manage to get his attention as his friend and he were talking at 700 zillion miles per hour.
My guess is that they were getting some Dutch courage before heading to a debating society showdown.

I have yet to see my photographic dream materialise: a roman catholic priest with the black shirt and dog colour about to dip his lips in a creamy pint.

My day will come.