It’s like if you were to say to someone, this is an egg, and the person went, no, no, it’s not, it’s a loaf of bread. It’s like that. You can’t argue with these people. You can’t even begin to defend objective fact, because the other person’s brain just isn’t willing to accept – or maybe isn’t even capable of accepting – any new or contradictory information about this particular thing, about a loaf of bread being really an egg or whatever. There’s no talking to them… So, what you’ve got then is a fucking egg sandwich, basically, if you get me…
I get you, yeah. I think. Egg sandwiches.
And who wants an egg fucking sandwich? Nobody, that’s who.
I dunno… I think they’re okay.
Okay? Climate-change deniers? And these crazy fuckers who think the world’s only six-thousand years old?
Jesus no, of course not. Egg sandwiches, I mean.
Okay… But wait. Egg sandwiches?
What’s wrong with an egg sandwich?
Literally the least appealing sandwich in the sandwich family. I mean literally in its literally correct literal sense. This is literal objective fac––
Please stop saying literal.
Whatever, fine, shut up. But it’s objective fact, okay? You can see it on every remnant of a platter of sandwiches there’s ever been in the history of sandwich platters remnants. Always the egg left over, every time. No one wants an egg sandwich.
No, no, no, wait now––
Don’t even try to debate it, Ray. Seriously.
What I’m talking about is––
There’s just no debate here, at all. Losing battle, buddy.
Can I finish please?
Whatever. What’s your big egg-sandwich argument?
My argument, you prick, is that I’m not talking a cold egg-sandwich – with mayo and watercress and shit. That’s not what I’m saying. I mean like a fried egg sandwich. Or scrambled. As in breakfast…
Oh. Well duh – obviously a breakfast-type sandwich is a different story. We’re in agreement there…
Great. I’m delighted. Might I add that – just by the way – you are way too intense about shit that has zero importance. Like sandwiches. What is wrong with you?
These things are––
Jesus, okay, don’t get started. Please.
… Anyway, hang on, why are we talking about sandwiches?
You brought it up. Representative of current levels of political and societal polarisation across the water.
Of course in America. Obviously. We’re grand over here in Ireland, so we are. With our sandwiches.
And our political equilibrium
It’s the bread and wine is our problem, Ray.
The body and blood, Ray. The church.
What does the bloody church have to do with anything?
That’s it exactly.
What’s it exactly?
Nothing, is what.
Yes! Now you have it, Raymondo; now you’re chugging diesel — now you have it precisely!
Chris Connolly’s fiction and poetry has appeared in the Irish Times, the Irish Independent, Southword, Storgy, and the Hennessy Book of Irish Fiction, among others, and has been broadcast on RTÉ Radio. His work has won numerous awards, including Best Emerging Fiction at the 2016 Hennessy Literary Awards, the RTÉ Francis McManus competition, the Easy Street Magazine ‘Great American Sentence Contest’ and the Over the Edge: New Writer of the Year award. He was highly commended in the Manchester Fiction Prize, and more recently runner-up in the Deborah Rogers Writing Award, and winner of the Ginosko Flash Fiction Competition. He is currently shortlisted for the Tom-Gallon Trust Award. His website is chrisconnollywriter.com.