391) The Auld Dubliner of Temple Bar, D2

Another Temple Bar institution, fondly referred to by some punters as ‘The Auld Dub’. We had long avoided visiting here, put off by its tourist trappings and exorbitant prices, which will no doubt skyrocket even further in the coming times.

Finally, out of a desire for comprehensiveness (for how on earth can TDP possibly be taken seriously if we ain’t comprehensive in our scope?!?), we paid a quick visit in the autumn of 2022. The mural outside, depicting a hardy old sea-dog-cum-Captain-Shotover type in the company of a wee doggie, is indeed iconic and a great local landmark.

A competent barman was dressed in blue shirt and red tie and served with alacrity and some bonhomie. A barwoman seemed suspicious of us, and for good reason. There was a strong odour of food in the air, always an option if you want to fatten your bills and your bellies alike. Although buyer beware, the grub smelt a little like cat food.

When one thinks to the name of this old boozer, one thinks of Joyce’s short stories and then of the great folk band named after those stories. And indeed just above our corner stoop where we drank, we beheld a bronze bust of Luke Kelly looming out of the wall like a gargoyle. It must be said that this is a very poor bust, rendering the great singer dead-eyed and zombie-like, and can in no way compare with the more recent efforts of John Coll and Vera Klute to depict the Dubliner. Kelly perhaps was once a frequenter of the place - but there is no way he paid the prices we paid.

For yes - two pints of Guinness will cost you €14.60, fuck you very much, working out at €7.30 apiece, cripes! With Heineken rising their prices yet again a pint of larger here will soon rise to near the €9 mark. You might say the special deal is: ‘YOU GET TWO PINTS FOR THE PRICE OF THREE.’ Yippee. No thanks, once was quite enough.

This pub (being but a mere box to tick) is owned by the Smith Group (who are also the possessors of The Norseman just down the road and the likes of The Lombard and T.P. Smiths) and are clearly up to their necks in avarice with prices once again on the rise. Make no mistake, this is a dark den of greed with lads and lasses locked, and tourists looking to have a few black beers in the heart of ‘Dublin’s Cultural Quarter.’

These throngs of tourists know full well they’re being ripped off but it’s all part of the experience. The irony is that it’s visually very agreeable. The decor here is worn, authentic and thankfully not modern - one would gladly sit at the bar for a gallon of stout were the prices not outrageous and the premises not crawling with drunken tourists. And in the end, The Auld Dubliner is every bit a real traditional Irish pub, it’s just not fit for auld Dubliners.

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