Mulligans, South Dublin City Centre

Guinness Gets You Drunk

(11 August 2009)

by: Luke 5 out of 5

Mulligan's rightly has a reputation for having the best pint of stout in Ireland. Actually that already leads me tangentially onto a fable of mine featuring me, as fables are often known to do. In Mulligan's with one of my many red-haired friends, none of whose names is Ron Weasley, we sat at the bar waiting for our pints to settle. Suddenly we were both overwhelmed with the same idea for an ad; this is known in the advertising world as a 'thunderbolt', I believe.

"Wait a second," we said in unison, "I have a brilliant idea for an ad!" Not even noticing how odd it was that we were both saying everything at the exact same time and in the same way, we continued to talk to each other like, well, audio mirrors. Soon, we realised it was pointless (and unsettling for the other punters) to continue conversing like Mad Men, and just acted out the ad, suited as it was to a pub like Mulligan's.

"You know they say this is the best pint of Guinness in Dublin," I began, ruefully.

"Yeah... Must be the best pint of Guinness in Ireland, so," continued Brendan, without skipping a beat.

Smirking like the genius that I am, I went on with this train of thought. "The best pint in the world?"

"Yeah, and probably the best pint in the universe then."

With perfect timing, we both took a large sip of our porters and, depositing them back on the bar, I looked up towards the ceiling of the bar and said, poetically, "You never know."

While I admit that it is downright foolish of me to write this on a review such as this, where any blackguard can wander in and pilfer our groundbreaking advertising ideas, I think it is important for the texture of my review, which I will begin now.

One evening, boozing away in Mulligan's, my red-haired friend and I decided to fill our lungs with tobacco smoke, but had to leave the pub for such activity is outlawed by governmental arseholes. Standing in the tiny doorway, for that night it snowed (or, if 't did not, then imagine it did, for the purposes of this tale), we lit our roll-ups and were shortly joined by the barman, who I will guess is called Desmond, although I have no evidence for this accusation. Desmond reached for a filter cigarette and placed it in his mouth, not even needing to ask for a lighter because he came prepared in the way that only barmen come prepared. We didn't judge him for smoking, or say "Smokers die younger", or "Smoking when pregnant harms your baby", partly because he wasn't "younger" than us and couldn't die younger, partly because he was deemed unpregnant by our admittedly untrained eye, and partly because we were also smoking and didn't want to be righteous idiots who do that.

So let's get to the bones of the review. So far, you're probably thinking, I have failed to give any information about why Mulligan's has gained 5 stars from me. Suddenly, and when I say 'suddenly' I mean about 20 seconds, Desmond was at the butt of his cigarette and could smoke it no more, having now to stub it into the specifically designated butt-plug. Marvelling, but too in awe to speak (and we are NOT GAY, although SOME OF OUR BEST FRIENDS ARE GAY), we stood motionless and speechless for a long time as the barman returned to his post to pull more pints of porter. "Right," I thought, "Whenever an Irish website which offers me the opportunity to review Dublin places at my leisure begins, I will immediately grant Mulligan's the much-coveted 5-stars." Now, I have been vindicated.

I love Guinness.

Luke would recommend. Luke would use again.

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