Messrs. Maguire

Burgh Quay, Dublin 2

By special guest reviewer, Old Dog!

Well, I won't say the evening didn't have its good points. Several in fact. Two of them belonging to the French waitress, who is named Emanuelle. Obviously, this has me thinking along cinematographic lines and wondering whether or not your one from Betty Blue was more up for it, so it's cheered me a little.

Apart from trying to find out if the "smooth Froggy bastard" routine works in reverse, (i.e., do we sound as revoltingly smarmy to French girls in their own language as French fellers do to ours that they keep bloody falling for and is the effect the same) so far I'm not finding a lot to recommend Messrs. Maguire's. Shall we start with the beer? Yes, I think we shall.

Apparently it's a "microbrewery". They have their own American-style lager on tap, which probably means that they cold-filter the output from their own urinals rather than buy someone else's. I tried it-- well, you have to, don't you?-- and was impressed. It's authentically American. Making a swift note to never never drink this shite ever again (it's almost Budweiser standard), I moved swiftly on. They also have a German style Pilsner which is crap. Sorry guys, try a decent German beer and then try your rubbish again. Yours is watery, no real malty taste and ends up remarkably similar to Miller or something else you'd buy in a bottle to bust on a bouncer.

There are a couple of stouts which, I am assured, were drinkable although not to be raved over (Here's a tip - they could buy in better gear from the Porterhouse.....) but I'm not a real stout drinker having been raised and then raised a bit further up in the West of England. The cider was Bulmers. Hah! One of these days, you effervescent bunch of fizzy philistines, one of these days I'll get you a pint of Gamers Black Label cider, or better yet, that evil bloody kerosene me granny used to brew. I've heard of people in Dublin who think they can drink. Right. Well. Enough said about the cider then; although it is about as good as you'll get around this town.

Wonder of wonders. There was a Red Ale. I had been saving this for my last drink because I'll confess I've had a real ache for a pint of hand-pulled Real Ale some time (our Barman, who art in Wadworth's...) so I loined my girders or something and went for it.

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Aaaargh! They pour it from a tap! There's no pumps! It's cold! And worst of all, it tastes like Watney's Pale Ale. "Don't take the piss out of Watney's", we used to say. "There'd be nothing left." A sorry truth. Why anyone would try to mimic the most watery insipid pint that ever crawled from the refuse vat in the brewery is totally beyond me. My God, if this is what Irish people think real beer is like it's no wonder no-one brews it or imports it here. I resolve to burn this place to the ground as soon as i get a decent alibi worked out.
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Fuck it. I ordered a very large Bushmills. Even this bunch of wankers can't screw that up. Now, the decor. Well, it's decently dark, i'll give it that. None of that garish stuff you find elsewhere. Maguire's still likes to think it's a pub and it's not trying to a be Whine Bar (the spelling is intentional) or any kind of a meatmarket. The music. Er. I'm downstairs, it's a Sunday. Trad. Although to be fair-- Jesus, i'm trying to be fair to trad; am I ill?-- there's none of your usual "diddly-diddly-diddly-an-de-English-hanged-me-brudder" muck, for which all present were duly grateful. As a half-breed, rebel songs leave me simultaneously wanting to punch myself in the face and go oppress somebody which is a difficult combination and could leave you with a nasty strain. And there's a girl giving it some Riverdance for a couple of songs which is not as nauseating as it sounds because she has very nice legs indeed. On the other hand, I did have to be physically restrained when they played a Ralph McTell song. "Streets of London", my arse.

The place is pretty expensive. There was a telly with "Fair City" showing before the band started, which may be why I'm being so nice about them. The music that was piped in after they finished, you really don't want me to talk about. The service was pretty quick, the French waitress was suitably open to suggestions and would I come back here? Only to meet a few people before heading for somewhere else. Anyway, as soon as that alibi comes through...