322) The Temple Bar of 47 - 48 Temple Bar, D2
A ship without a sail - established in 1840. A conveyor belt of the world’s tourists. Deceivingly cavernous. Like a small village they have their own publication: The Temple Bar Telegraph in which they claim Jonathan Swift is the love child of Sir William Temple. Constantly packed with pissing bodies. Continuous live music morning, noon and night. A circus in the light of day, a zoo in the dark of night. Herds of stags drool on broods of hens. A theatre style popcorn machine spits into a hot box behind the bar. An ATM can be found in the toilets - make a withdrawal while you make a deposit! A massive and mysterious statue of an unknown man dominates a certain section - do you know this bronze? Stomach punching prices. Guinness is sold at a sordid €6.90, increasing to a nauseating €7.40 after a certain hour when greed transcends grief - O, Saint Patrick, you forgot a snake! Questionable stew served in shamrock shaped bowls. Terrible pronunciation of ‘póg mo thóin!’ Tipsy globetrotters do the Riverdance to Sunday Bloody Sunday. (Wasn’t Bono born in the bar?). Think of the absurd: green coddle, white Guinness, orange lucky charms. Rumour has it if you stay long enough you’ll see Mickywiggle (the Roscommonian leprechaun) shit gold.
A surprisingly large beer garden and smoking area sprawls from the core. A series of bronze busts modelled on the Custom House keystones represent 6 river gods which include: the Shannon, Suir, Lee, Slaney, Bann and the Atlantic Ocean. An elaborate shrine to James Joyce is well structured. A full corner is dedicated to the writer which includes a life-sized bronze statue of him holding a copy of Dubliners in one hand, and a libation in the other. An abridged quote from Counterparts is a detail that could be missed and can be read on the inside of the opened book. Save for the spectacles, the likeness impresses more than the ‘Prick with the Stick’ in North Earl Street. Various photos, artwork and quotes cover the walls that corner him. ‘They lived and laughed and loved and left.’
Tippler’s Tip and Imbiber Beware: don’t do (or say) anything stupid outside the pub because your actions are being streamed live across the globe via EarthCam. Perched atop a nearby pharmacy is a camera pointed directly at The Temple Bar so that family, friends and sweaty voyeurs can watch you from anywhere in the world.
It must be said that any Dubliner worth his salt (& vinegar) knows never to come here - it being the obvious tourist trap, yet we were curious enough to see just how low the pub can go. And though we hold no wish to ever return, we felt it necessary to have experienced it at least once, albeit fleetingly, in the spirit of thoroughness, and to have satisfied however briefly that inhumane part of humanity which is sordidly morbidly curious.
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