"I'm Irish! So am I! I am too!"

Last night, my wife and I were treated to a comedy show. Except we didn't have to pay for it. Or actually face the comediennes. We sat with our backs to three Stepford-type wives who talked so much verbal diarrhoea, that I near choked on my chicken with laughter.

We were in a favourite restaurant of ours, sitting at the long bar. We sit at the bar purely because we know a few of the staff well and have a bit of witty banter with them - whilst we eat and have a couple of drinks.

This restaurant is very popular, and it was a usual, busy Saturday night. Some people sit and have a drink before they are shown to their table, and this was where we encountered our three main protagonists.

We were treated to the atypical air kissing when they all arrived and greeted each other. Both of us looked at each other and wondered why we always seem to attract these type of eejits. We didn't talk to them, but we always seem to be around the very presence of fake people. Or maybe we can just spot them a mile off.

Anyhow, after the fur coats and ski jackets were removed, the bullshit spewed forth. The three men took seats at the bar whilst the women corralled themselves into a small diamond of chatter. My wife had the "what car are you driving now?" on her left hand side, as the men measured each other dicks by the size of their engines.

Directly behind us we had the triumvirate of one-up-manship beginning. These ladies were all in their forties and fifties, and well accustomed to Botox and house servants. Their nails and hair were coiffed to the utmost degree and the mix of three strong perfumes in close proximity to my dinner was making me gag a touch. The usual "you look great" kicked off the proceedings.

But the conversation was gold. It more than made up for my now-flavoured Chanel chicken and mash. They talked about their children firstly and constantly talked over one another. I was nearly awarding points in my head to each contestant, as they one-upped each other with outlandish tales and stories.

The next subject that was discussed was Hurricane Sandy and the affect it had on their immense properties. This was where they could really embellish. These ladies lived outside Boston, a good distance from where Hurricane Sandy did real substantial damage.

One said she had two trees down in the back garden - another said she had three down - but the last one had almost won the contest - stating she had lost slates off the roof, the picket fence and her two wheelie bins! Ding ding! I was just about to award her victory, but the first one then interjected with a stonewaller. 

She stated that some rival waste collection companies were stealing the competitions' bins in order to win contracts. Knockout blow! This was starting to get bitchy. This is where we both laughed at each other with our eyes in astonishment.

Then came the final topic - holidays. Where they were going to spend the New Year skiing and what destinations they were thinking about for next summer. One of them mentioned Ireland and we stopped eating and drinking. This could be good.

That's where the ladies stated the title above, and much hi-fiving started.

Had any one of them ever been to Ireland? No.

Had any one of them ever been outside the USA? No.

Did anyone of them possess passports? Yes - they all did to visit Mexico and Aruba. Not exactly far away from the USA.

Were any of their parents from Ireland? No.

Had any of them Irish-sounding names? No.

Did any of them have an "Irish" look about them? No.

I was going to turn around and quite proudly state the blindingly obvious, but I restrained myself.

Instead, we guffawed into our dinner until they shuffled away to their table. We pretended to be laughing at something else, without any of the women knowing we were giggling at their expense. It was pure comedy gold - even the bar staff were entertained by the stories.

We went for dinner but inadvertently got a free show thrown in. Great value altogether.