St. Patrick's Day Brawl (2015)
Olivia Wilde versus Minka Kelly
Words: Bazz / Results: Lookout!

Before: The patrons of Lynch’s Ale House just outside of New York City say that the steps up into the well worn establishment are much easier to navigate than the trip down after a few hours of worship inside the old by extremely comfortable structure, “Up and into heaven and out and down to hell” is often said. Captains of finance, journalism, political bureaucracy and all forms of entertainment had found refuge in the dark wooden chamber noshing on all things Irish and while corned beef is available it’s well down the list as true Irish fare, salmon, cod, oysters and lamb are considered a good meal surrounded by several pints of Murphy’s or a glass of whiskey fermented on the small island.

Yet superior food is just a minor paragraph written in the long and wild history of this bar. The pictures of golden gloves boxers mixed in with high school and college lacrosse players and teams in the cradles of the sport in Long Island and Connecticut adorn the walls of the spacious room as if it is a hall of fame for the two sports where the Lynch family passions lie. In back of the long bar hang some very unique pictures, smiling but their faces marked by battle. Celebrities, Harrison Ford grinning wide despite missing a tooth, Liam Neeson with a serious black eye, DeNiro and Pesci side by side with smiles and bloody noses and at the end of the bar two normally beautiful women, a close up, each with an arm around the other, the two of them barely recognizable behind the bruises and fat lips, Bridget Regan and Amanda Righetti. This sort of main event happened rarely but when it did it happened at a place like Lynch’s.

The joint is an explosion of noise, fat men laughing boisterously, women screeching at decibel levels approached by only opera divas and waiters and bartenders bellowing out orders over the whole din. Suddenly the door opens and the sunlight blasts through causing the patrons to cower like vampires. In the doorway is the outline of a ponytailed 5’-2” flyweight gussied up in a tartan green kilt and bagpipe band uniform.

“Hey whadda ya here to sell girl scout cookies lil’ girl?” A well lubricated attorney yells, but the girl barely moves.

“Close the door and get you’re a$$ down to the daycare on the next block so we can get some sleep!” The rather stout personal injury attorney known more for his prowess at inhaling food through his prodigious pie hole than his ethics draws guffaws and hoots from the huge crowd.

“Calm down there Chumly! Give a girl a chance to get to the bar!” The athletic blonde retorts while walking to the bar.

“Chumly? Why you little pipsqueak! I oughta take ya over my knee and give you the spanking you so richly deserve.” The potbellied counselor bellows causing the crowd to roar.

Meanwhile towards the back of the establishment sits a composed blonde surrounded by a cadre of equally striking young women sipping on a Harp lager. In a calm tenor Paris Hilton utters to no one in particular “Don’t mess with the . . . little devil.”

Just as the Lookout blonde gets her warning out Cassie Scerbo with a short running start leaps into the air doing a forward flip and landing on her feet on the bar in front of the offending lawyer.

“Girl Scout cookies! Daycare Centers! Spankings!” Just when things are looking extremely dark for the legal shyster who is now looking up at the short blonde, Cassie Scerbo breaks into a wide grin. “Let me dance you an Irish jig! Then we’ll be getting along like ol’ pallys!”

With that Cassie begins a rather polished tap dance on the bar right in front of the amused and inebriated attorney. While the entirety of the bar’s patronage looked on in amazement Scerbo breaks into an incredible rendition of Riverdance bringing the crowd to their feet all of them clapping in unison. Suddenly the Bazz flyweight does a half twirl and yells “Donkey kick!” The saddle shoe hits the ambulance chaser right on the sternum sending the porcine suit backwards off his stool flying into a waitress carrying a tray of corned beef dinners to the corner table. The counselor and waitress untangle themselves and he stands wearing a full order of cabbage on what was previously a bald pate.

“Ha! Ha! Chumly! Nice rug!” Cassie bellows from a top the bar causing an eruption in raucous laughter. The stunned attorney can only wipe the green stuff from his head and laugh with the rest.

Meanwhile Cassie Scerbo jumps down from the bar with the grace and prowess of a gymnast and walks back to Lookout territory.

“Hellooooo Fudgy!” Scerbo greets one of her most intense nemesis, Vanessa Hudgens.

“Why I oughta. . .!” Hudgens lunges at her natural enemy only to be grabbed from behind by Kate Upton.

“You’re a long way from home little girl.” Paris Hilton stands toe to toe with the perky flyweight. “Kate, Yvonne, why don’t we held down our rambunctious friend and we’ll have Vanessa, as Cassie has been known to say, apply the dreaded rear admiral.”

“I suppose it’s technically possible to give someone wearing a kilt a rear admiral but it’s not really feasible. Besides I don’t think that you have the fire power to pull it off.” Scerbo smiles confidently staring down a shocked Lookout Fight Club when suddenly the door blasts open, this time very little light breaks through the hulking mass in the doorway.

“Happy Saint Paddy’s day you freaking Irish houligans!” Poindexter Del Crunchy bounds into the bar followed by the entirety of the Bazz Fight Club and a man in a hat.

Pointy collects a healthy glass of Bruichladdich scotch from the bar, downs it in one fell swoop and then continues to the back of the room where Paris Hilton and her girls have set up camp.

“Paris! It’s nice to see ya again. Is your girl ready?” Pointy shakes the blonde’s hand engulfing it in his which looks like a bear paw.

“I’m ready!” Minka Kelly steps forward wearing a tight dark green PVC top and faded Levis.

“Olivia!” Pointy calls out to the grouping of girls that have taken over a good portion of the bar and begun drinking in earnest. One of them breaks from the pack. Olivia Wilde downs a shot of Irish whiskey and carries two more back to Pointy and Lookout resplendent in a tight fitting faux lizard skin vest with green backing and the same type of dungarees being worn by Minka. Despite the casual street wear both women momentarily paralyze the crowd with their looks.

The crowd in the bar oblivious to the scheduled event nonetheless senses something truly special, A Saint Patrick’s Day tradition is about to happen and they are lucky enough to have stumbled upon it. Food is gulped down, a rush to the bar for drinks for what looks to be a donnybrook between two fighters at the top of the FCBA food chain. A group of reporters that have caught wind of the event, Smackey in an enormous off white Irish sweater, Tess Valmore next to him, Ace Acealot, Ira Fishbein and the former Times Sunday Style reporter, Gwyneth Chez Whitey Worthington.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! I can’t believe this is going to happen!” Ira Fishbein gushes like a school girl about to be asked to the senior prom. Unfortunately for his already meager reputation the savagely breathed reporter looks up and notices the entirety of the bar starring at him, worst of all furrowed brows from both Poindexter Del Crunchy and Cassandra Lynn Scerbo aimed right at him.

“Alright then! Let’s get this started! You girls know how it’s done!” Pointy instructs.

Olivia hands Minka one of the glasses of 12 yr old Jameson. The two combatants raise their glasses.

“Cailin luck maith!” Minka smiles at Olivia.

“Agus adh mor a thabhairt duit mo chara!” Olivia returns.

“What’s that they just said?” Smackey asks Tess his pen at the ready.

“Cassy told me that they had agreed before to toast in Gaelic. Minka said ‘Good luck girl’ while Olivia said ‘And to you my friend.’” Tess responds in a whisper.

The two girls throw back the smooth Irish whiskey and throw their glasses over the crowd. Unfortunately Olivia’s glass falls short of the wall hitting one Bartholomew Boozy Alahandro Hay square in the forehead causing the intrepid reporter to swoon into Ace Acealot. “Buck up big fella! Fire this back!” Ace pours a shot of whiskey down Smackey’s gullet.

Rd 1 The girls assume their fighting stances and beging circling. Olivia fires first sending a crisp left handat Minka’s chin. Kelly’s head rocks back from the force of the bare knuckle punch. Minka keeps her composure throwing a right cross that misses. Olivia takes advantage throwing her own right that slams into Minka’s side. Kelly hurt now early in the brawl tries to cover up while Olivia goes all in. Minka retreating in what can only be described as a fungible fight ring, changing size and shape as the two bantams move about the bar room making people back up while those on the other side move in for a better view. Wilde catching Kelly all over, the arms, chest, and midsection, everywhere she needs to be to knock her out and claim an early victory. A bell hanging behind the bar clangs loudly. Olivia Wilde grabs the last of a glass of Jameson from Mrs Worthington, downs it and wings the glass at the back wall where it explodes displaying her anger at not taking advantage of a golden opportunity. While Wilde storms off to her corner the Times reporter can be heard caterwauling to an associate, “Can you imagine getting away with something like that in the Hamptons? I can assure you that girl never matriculated from Wellesly!”

Rd 2 Minka still slightly affected by Wilde’s power punch to the torso but she’s good to go. Wilde emerges from the crowd on a mission. She moves on Kelly but this time is met by much more resistance. Punches are traded with equal vigor as Kelly’s midsection loosens up quickly. Both bar room brawlers move with ease and a fluidity that is at odds with the dark bar, boozy crowd and the smells that go with it instead its elegance on display. Minka with bare knuckles up moves in and out touching up Wilde with jabs and a right hand cross. Momentarily seizing control of the fight. Wilde ducking and weaving her way out of trouble and in the process harpooning a large bellied proctologist that has innocently moved into the fight area with an elbow sending him reeling backwards into the crowd. Ace reporter Ace Acealot is nimble enough to dodge the large mass but one Bartholomew Jacqueline Bouvier Alahandro Hay not so much so. Smackey lets out a groan as he absorbs the wall of corpulence weighing in at well north of three C notes and change mashing him against the wall and crushing his double order of fish and chips against his chest. Both men end up slumping against the wall and down to the floor, the extremely unhealthy doctor now the owner of a sizeable shiner and Smackey some hurt feelings as the round comes to an end with Minka making a sturdy comeback.

The crowd getting rowdier with the liquor flowing at a very good pace now. Fighters getting instructions in their respective corners while the taps flow. Meanwhile Tess kneels down to check on her fallen fiancé.

“Are you okay honey?” Tess inquires.

“I think so. That guy might need gastric bypass surgery. He’s so huge!” Smackey lays back watching Tess eat his fish and chips right off his chest. “Honey, please tell me that you’re not just checking on me because you want to eat my fish and chips?” Smackey asks hopefully.

Rd 3 Crowd swaying as a massive unit now. So many have snuck into the establishment as word has got out about the St Paddy’s day brawl. The girls meet in the center of the opening. More smooth stuff. Patrons being treated to a show by two of the quicker, more agile women in the FCBA. The bantams move like Fred and Ginger only with sharp darts being thrown as a significant part of the dance. Minka jabs occasionally catching Olivia on the chin while the Wilde Girl chops away at Kelly’s midsection. Both girls are scoring on each other often. It’s an offensive battle and the bar loves it, especially the occupational hazard of having one of the fighters’ sharpened elbows clip anyone in the front row. Minka actually using the underhanded John L. Sullivan stance for a brief moment much to the crowd’s delight. The small bit of showboating doesn’t sit well with Olivia Wilde who sends a right hand stinger Minka’s way connecting with the ribs and once again crimping the Lookout girl to one side. Minka spends the rest of the round doing her best to avoid Olivia’s very effective buggy whip right to the body.

As the bell for the end of the third round clangs the Wiz seated at the bar with a good view of the melee turns to Lis Rohm for analysis. The Front St majordomo always searches out the Bazz blonde for her opinion. Meanwhile on his other side sits one Cassandra Lynn Scerbo holding a replacement PBR for her bar stool neighbor.

“Tell me Cassandra Lynn what’s your opinion of the fight so far?” The Wiz asks his favorite flyweight.

“It’s Wilde girl tonight, barring anything freaky happening. She’s owning Minka’s body.” Cassie opines.

The Wiz turns to Rohm who gives him a look as if to say “the little girl knows her stuff”.

“By the way Uncle Wiz, how much did that Irish sweater you bought Smackey cost?” Cassie inquires.

“Surprisingly inexpensive. Why ask Cassandra Lynn?” Wiz searches the bar for the vaunted reporter.

“Because Smackey has decided to place an entire fish buffet on it with no plates.” Cassie reports to the shocked Wiz just as he spots Smackey back on his feet standing in the corner with battered fish and french fries hanging from the loose threads of the large sweater while Tess Valmore continues to use her fiance as a noshing station as holds a large cup of tartar sauce.

Rd 4 Olivia Wilde blitzes Minka Kelly the second the bell clangs. Kelly still hurting from the previous round and Wilde making sure she takes care of business this round. Wilde on the offensive with a three punch combination that sends Kelly backwards through the crowd landing on the former Times Sunday Styles reporter Mrs. Worthington and knocking her back into the White Plains Rugby Club whom decide as a unit that now is the time to get into the swing of things throwing the upper west side resident up into the air complete with her fur coat while she screams bloody murder. To everyone in attendance she looks very much like a large bear cub sailing all the way to the ceiling with each throw. Meanwhile Minka charges back out of the crowd and faces down Wilde with a couple of jabs and a planted leg and a right cross which Olivia dodges and counters with a solid right to the head. Kelly reeling trying to hang on until the bell rings. The crowd smelling a knockout moves in making things next to impossible for the fighters who are having trouble getting jostled around by a combination of patrons trying to “help” them by pushing them back into the ring or just get a bit handsy with a drop dead gorgeous celebrity. Despite the loud roar from the crowd Mrs. Worthington can be heard above it all screaming while she flies through the air compliments of the scrum now singing some rather randy rugby songs. Olivia Wilde is smacking a drowsy Minka Kelly around the fungible ring. Lookout girl trying to keep it together until the bell while Olivia takes liberties with everything below the neck including gut, kidneys, liver, jugs and then the occasional slapping cross to the head. Bell clangs and Minka Kelly more than a little disheveled staggers back to her corner.

In between rounds one Bartholomew Tullamore Dew Alahandro Hay makes his way to the bar where Cassie Scerbo and The Wiz are seated.
What’s up Smackey? You need directions to the dry cleaners?” Cassie greets the relentless reporter.

“Oh God! Sorry Wiz I got crushed by that enormous man over there and I was holding Tess’ and my fish and chips.” Smackey offers.

“In that case you mean Tess’ fish and chips.” Scerbo can’t resist adding.

“Finbar! I’ve already ordered you a new one through Pointy’s connection. It’ll arrive with Cassie’s. Here have some of Pointy’s Bruichladdich with me.” The Man In The Hat hands the reporter a large glass of brown liquid.

“Oh I’ll have to sip this. I’ve been imbibing. . . “ Smackey is interrupted by the deft hand of Cassie Scerbo which gently sneaks up underneath the glass.

“Just fire that sucka back Smackeroo!” Scerbo coaxes the liquid contents down Smackey’s cakehole.

Just then Poindexter Del Crunchy slaps Smackey on the back causing him to vomit a little bit into his mouth. “Smackey my man! I have just enough time between rounds for a dollup of libation! Care to join me?”

“Oh I. . . “ Before Smackey can stop it there’s much more than a bit of Bruichladdich scotch planted in front of his face. “A dollup?”

Smackey is in panic mode now as Pointy is pouring the large portion of brown stuff down his pie hole while the big Scot finishes his own.

Smackey’s world can now be described as a little loose and things are starting to spin. Still he can’t help but notice a smallish ponytailed girl looking up at him complete with possum grin attached. “Tell me Finbar, at this very moment, how are ya feeling?” 

Rd 5 Minka and Olivia dancing around the room again. Most of the men now lubricated enough to notice that the two girls are drop dead gorgeous and well beyond their reach. Others, a far smaller group, having drank just enough to believe that now, during this St Paddy’s day fight, is the perfect time to approach them. Olivia feels the paws on her back as does Minka. A sharp elbow thrown back by by Wilde connects sending a jug eared notary reeling back on his heels and into the White Plains rugby scrum. Meanwhile during the momentary break Minka turns and head butts the goon accosting her dropping him right where he stands. The two fighters working hard now that the crowd, for the moment, understands its boundaries thanks to the penalties recently doled out. Both women snapping off jabs at each other moving in a tight circle. Minka and Olivia bobbing and weaving to avoid each other. Wilde starting to wear down Kelly until the Lookout girl goes body and scores! Olivia retreats hoping to recover before Kelly launches a barrage but Minka is good to go. She’s stepping in on the Bazz beauty with planted left leg supporting left ahnd jabs and right hand crosses. Wilde unable to get away as easily with the crowd significantly more handsy once again decides to fight her way out of the corner. Bazz girl lands a couple of right hands to the midsection and the bell clangs but it’s Minka’s comeback round by a point.

Rd 6 Olivia sensing that the last round may be signaling a sea change comes out steaming. One, Two, Three, the Wilde Girl lights up Minka Kelly with a combination that sends her in reverse. Olivia, an Irish lass, looking to win the St Paddy’s day prize. She moves straight at Minka jabbing twice and then landing a right hand. Minka goes for a desperation clinch, leaning on Olivia for all she’s worth. Wilde working the body with the short punches that Kelly’s clinching will allow. Fight has been so perfect, so elegant that this is the first time that the ref has really intervened. The short bold Italian so unaccustomed to be in the company of so many Irishman, some legitimate many more not really, pries the girls apart. Olivia immediately connects with a right hand sending Kelly back a couple of steps where she is grabbed by yet another handsy patron, this one with bad teeth and enough nostril hairs to hang an entire swing set from his nose. Ref steps in and struggles with the unruly intoxicant long enough to hold up the fight until the bell clangs. Wilde storms over to the not very attractive drunk giving him an open handed slap reminding him that he better behave himself lest he be introduced to one Poindexter Del Crunchy.

“Hey yooou caaan’t dooo thaaat! Yooou’ll Ruuuuin the fiiiight!” Ira Fishbein unrepentant regarding his severe halitosis yells at the drunk enunciating every syllable and blowing enough breath out of his yapper to change the direction of a California forest fire and unfortunately for one Bartholomew High Karate Alahandro Hay who has moved next to his fellow reporter to get away from the savagery at the bar, both he and a sufficiently bombed planning and zoning official just trying to hide from his office for a few hours are in a direct line of fire and catch the brunt of Mr. Fishbein’s main export, some seriously horrendous breath. Smackey begins to immediately convulse, a dramatically preferable fate than that of the town bureaucrat whose eyes roll back in his head as he collapses into Smackey’s shoulder, yet the doorstop to most anything getting built in a town’s resting place is short lived because Smackey is up and staggering, moving through the bar actually doing a drunken sashay across the fungible boxing ring and off to the men’s room followed by Tess Valmore who sees that her fiancé is simply a mere shadow of his former self.

Rd 7 Minka Kelly has received a full protocol of smelling salts and is back in the game. She moves out of her corner having forgotten the previous round’s pain and tags Olivia with a right hand to the chin. Wilde now the one seeing stars and for the first time all night is in survival mode. Kelly in the hole all night leaps at the opportunity like the pro that she is frantically swinging away at the jurt fighter. Olivia backs up only to be hugged by a slobbering boozehound Referee pushes the meathead back into the crowd. Minka resumes her pursuit of Wilde who moves in close to avoid anymore more long distance bombs. Ref break up clinches and Minka takes advantage punching away at Olivia landing jabs to the head and then going low hammering the midsection. Olivia’s smooth movements around the ring are all gone as she absorbs punishment hoping to make it to the end of the round. Minka steps in with a strong left hand just as the bell clangs bringing the crowd to its feet and practically knocking out the Wilde Girl on hers. Pointy breaks out the Bazz smelling salts concentrating on bringing Olivia Wilde back around. Meanwhile still at the bar, the Wiz is mining for more information from Lis Rohm. They are talking about about Olivia’s mistake at the beginning of the last round and what she can do to recover all while Cassie Scerbo listens intently occasionally adding her point of view.

Suddenly the pesky flyweight’s radar always set to diabolical, senses trouble.

“I gotta go.” Scerbo informs her bar mates and is immediately off her stool.

Further down the bar Brenda Song is holding off a double helping of Lookout flyweight snark.

Vanessa Hudgens and Ashley Tisdale have her cornered and are doing their best to hurt some feelings and maybe more. Just as Cassie Scerbo is sauntering over the Lookout girls are ramping things up to physical with and arsenal of annoying things meant to drive anyone to the point of madness including but not limited to ear tweaks, wet willies, fish hooks, nose bops, etc, etc. Outnumbered Song is at her wits end. She could always call in Bridget Regan, kryptonite to even the biggest of the Lookout brawn, but in a way that would be an admission of defeat as flyweights always settled things amongst themselves. So Brenda is trying to brush away Tisdale’s hand from her face when. . .

“Hey Dizzy Tizzy watch this.” Cassie announces her presence with an up and down motion of her right hand. “Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo!”

Cassie lets out her best rendition of Moe from the Three Stooges allowing her hand to waft and flutter up and down in front of Ashley Tisdale’s face who unfortunately for her is mesmerized following the hand like a volunteer at a Penn and Teller show until Cassie strikes with her two fingers, one in each eye.

“Ow! Ow! No fair! She gave me an Owie!” Tisdale howls in pain.

“Two can play at that game!” Vanessa Hudgens reaches out and snatched Scerbo’s ponytail pulling it downward.

Scerbo quick as a cat reaches out and grabs Hudgens’ ponytail. The result is each girl pulling on the other until they are spinning around in tight circles. Meanwhile Brenda Song assists her Bazz mate by playfully smacking Hudgens on the forehead each time she spins by.

“Good Lord it’s like the tiger in that fairy tale, they’ll turn to bloody butter if they keep going.” Rhona Mitra comments as she watches the flyweights spin.”

Ultimately the flyweight chicanery is broken up by Elisabeth Rohm and Kate Upton. Each grabs their club’s girl and drags them away. Rohm controlling Scerbo by pulling her by her ear.

Rd 8 Both girls take a gulp of Jameson to brace themselves for the rest of the fight. With Wilde’s seventh round both fighters have been to the brink of hitting the barroom floor. Both fighters come out strong going toe to toe from the first second. Minka and Olivia both laying out punishment one the other while trying to dodge punches. The pace and intensity is as brutal as any FCBA St Paddy’s Day brawl has ever been. Neither fighter able to completely avoid the other. Minka throws a jab but catches a right hand from Wilde. Olivia pulls an uppercut hoping to catch some chin but has to endure a stiff left hand in the process. It goes like this for two minutes and no one can understand how they can keep up this insane pace. To the crowd it looks as if Kelly and Wilde might just melt into the floor they are just two blurs.

The intensity draws the crowd in. They are within touching distance. Wilde takes a step back hoping to wind up with a right to finish things but instead steps back into an unsuspecting patron. The CPA from Scarsdale no doubt feels like Bartman at a fairly important Cubs game not too long ago. What harm could reaching out and trying to grab a foul ball or simply help a fighter get back into the ring with a gentle push do? So he does it more on instinct than anything else giving the Wilde Girl a gentle shove back into the fight. In a classic you should have jigged instead of juked Olivia is pushed forward. Minka Kelly’s right hand catches Olivia’s oncoming chin perfectly and DOWN GOES WILDE! The Bazz girl crashes back into the crowd sending drunks sprawling everywhere. Ref moves in and gets to ten before a struggling Olivia Wilde can get to her feet. Minka Kelly knocks out Olivia Wilde Rd 8!

The crowd is in a state of raucous confusion. The ref not sure whether to call a winner, a foul or duck duck goose. A couple of skirmishes break out and pandemonium is not far away until an extremely large man in a kilt moves to the center of the chaos. He grabs a very frightened CPA from a group of angry revelers no doubt having gone heavy into betting on Olivia Wilde escorting him to safety then returning to the two fighters that are still circling each other with violent intentions.

“Alright! Alright! Settle down! If it’s one thing that puts a damper on this day it’s the whole lot of ya that can’t handle your liquor!” Pointy yells over the crowd.

“Here! Here!” Comes a yell from the back of the crowd.

“Smackey is that you?” Pointy squints to get a better look.

“Hell yeah boooey!” Smackey is doing a horrible job of hiding his inebriation which draws laughter from the rest of the patrons.

“Maybe you should hold off on that last one young man!” Pointy suggests.

“Okay!” With that Smackey dumps half a glass of brown stuff down into his innards and the other half all over his face which causes Pointy and The Wiz still seated at the bar to simultaneously and slowly shake their heads.

“Everyone here, especially the two very talented fighters knew that this was a no holds barred brawl. That’s the way St Paddy’s day fights go. Both fighters had to put up with all of you horny houligans but that last one was someone just trying to help out so it’s my pleasure to give this Saint Paddy’s day fight, I think the most exciting on record to Minka Kelly!” Poindexter Del Crunchy raises Minka Kelly’s hand and gives each girl a smooch for congratulations and just like that the fight is in the rearview mirror.

Minka and Olivia hug it out and they go to a table to rehash the fight.

Poindexter Del Crunchy takes his seat next to The Wiz at the bar with the world’s safest CPA now seated between him and The Wiz’ chauffeur, the club soda drinking Reginald.

“Good job Pointy. If I was President I’d make you ambassador to Scotland.” Paris Hilton buys the group a round and gives the big Scot a pat on the back.

“Hell send him to North Korea he'd be able to get things done even with those donkeys and we’d be that much safer!” The Wiz chuckles from his stool.

“Only if I can send you to Iran Wiz.” Paris draws loud guffaws from anyone within hearing, “By the way, your girl Cassandra Lynn is as advertized, quite provocative. I noticed that she stuck up for Brenda Song today, seems as if you’re making progress."

“That’s a big iceberg to thaw my dear.” Pointy replies with a smile.

At 3 am only the professionals are left at Lynch’s bar. Poindexter Del Crunchy and the Wiz are piling entertaining stories one on top of the other to anyone who will listen. Elsiabeth Rohm and Alana De La Garza are listening intently to stories about the SAS from Reginald. Several Lookout girls among them Yvonne Strahovski, Kate Upton an Emily Van Camp are playing darts in the far corner while Shailene Woodley and Jill Wagner are learning the finer points about the game of lacrosse from one of the Lynch brothers despite Pointy’s warning about teaching a member of Bazz about anything involving a stick. At one end of the bar One Bartholomew El Cabeza Grande Alahandro Hay is lifting his head from the bar for the first time in over an hour.

“Where am I?” Smackey asks no one in particular only to find that a very unusual comrade has sauntered up next to him.

“You’re winding down yet another St Paddy’s day. Congratulations Smackey! You’re still alive!” A smiling Cassie Scerbo responds.

“Where’s Tess?” He asks.

“She went to the manor with the rest of the girls. Don’t worry she called this a guy’s night out and forgave you for your brilliance today. I stuck up for you too.” Cassie informs the indomitable reporter.

“Thanks Cassie! Why the sympathy? Are you turning over a new leaf?” Smackey asks while not moving his head from the comfort of the hard wooden bar.

“Oh nonsense Smackey. You’ve still got to watch your back.” Cassie informs him.

“Oh well. One questions Cassie, how come you aren’t feeling the effects of partying here for so many hours. I saw you with a drink in your hand all night.” Smackey inquires.

“I don’t drink Smackey. I don’t eat crappy food like that massive order of fish and chips I saw on your sweater either. All those drinks belonged to Pointy or The Wiz and if I ever took a sip it was this stuff, blended kale, spinach and grapefruit juice. Want some? It might help?” Cassie announces.

“Oooh please take it away!” Once again the gritty reporter throws up a little in his mouth.

Meanwhile seated at the bar just on the other side of Smackey, Olivia Wilde and Minka Kelly giggle at the sight of the flyweight trying to get some of the health drink down into his system and up behind the bar right next to the Regan-Righetti picture already hangs a commemoration of today’s activities, a picture of a bruised and scuffed up Minka Kelly and Olivia Wilde with a black eye from the fights final punch smiling with their arms around each other like old buddies, old Irish buddies.