171) The Waterloo of Baggot Street, D4

The Portaloo of Baggot Street. A pretentious pisshole. A shameless bar for suits and cash flashing cologne drenched dickheads. Not even their two false snugs (named after Kavanagh and Behan) can save its face. Exclusive cocktails. Bourgeoisie craft beer. Swanky vaulted ceiling with neon-lit chandeliers. A lofty terrace bar for those demanding food, fast. Textbook gastritis with gastronomical prices. To the barman one particular absolute legend whose tipple is Heineken was once heard to have said: ‘Yeah howz it goin pal, two sticks of Heinamite when you’re ready there, yeah?’ You get the picture.

For shits

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