The Globe/Rí-Rás

The Globe on Georges Street boldly announces its age limits; they are emblazoned upon the door for all to see. This overt display is meant as a warning to the teenyboppers that their presence is unwelcome. Alas, said door policy has done nothing for the atmosphere in the Glob, sorry Globe itself. Boring, boring, boring-- this is a pub with absolutely no character or personality. Populated by the worst kind of arts/ents liggers and media types, pretentious shitehawks the lot; at least slappervilles' like The Turk's Head know their place in the food chain and have no such illusions of grandeur. With décor somewhere between art student flat and decaying Victorian pastiche there is of course nowhere to sit. A table or two, a few stools, and that's it. Jaysus, but I'm sick to me fucking nadgers of bars with no bleeding seats, sick of being treated like an inmate of a fucking emperor penguin colony. What's the problem, buy an extra bench. We're paying you fucks enough for the privilege.

This bar is at best a place to be seen posing in and at worst an extended abutment for the the excruciating boredom of Rí-Rás, the adjoining nightclub, I will get to that unholy place anon. This is not a pub to have a bit of craic in, it's a pub to be seen in, pose in and meet people you want to impress with your exhaustive knowledge of the rare Polish vinyl releases of Technofuckmeister DJ Plasteek Zpastic and urbanwarfare junglists Anorak Baztardz. You people know who you are, go listen to some tunes fuckboys. Acch, why do I bother with this shite anyway, I'd much rather be in me local with a seat, a pint and some civility then humping and shunting in some filthy fleshpot in the city centre. Jaysus if we ever catch up with that Celtic Tiger I hope we beat the little bollix's head in and dump the fucker in the Liffey for the leeches.

Rí-Rás is more of the same really. The interior is all brown and bronzey; it's like dancing in a bag of coppers. Streaky brown shite covers the walls whilst the dregs of Dublin 4 and the wannabes from Blackrock and Dalkey thrash about on the dance floor to tuneless undanceable rubbish by some monomaniacal DJ git. I'm not sorry to admit, it was so tedious I dozed off several times. The booze? Maybe, but try crashing out in a nightclub after several Red Bull and vodka's. No mean feat.

To sum up: a very small bar with a very big opinion of itself, crammed with people, expensive booze, and of course a very long wait for a drink. Dark, gloomy and pokey this is really a place to get up your nose. Now I know this venue may not be to everyones tastes (it certainly isn't to mine) but if yours run to something akin to baggy pants meets wannabe Tiger cub/yuppie chic then be my guest. Me, I wouldn't bother but then what do I know, eh?