There was a Big Bang in Boland’s from which sprang forth a cosmos of popular culture memorabilia. Every single square inch of every wall, ceiling, pillar and post is spattered in artefacts. Vinyl records, CD covers, DVD covers, VHS boxes, posters, stickers, photos of movies, actors, bands and singers are all affixed as far as the eye can see. It’s as if a giant jukebox puked on the ceiling, and this is no small ceiling. How long must it have taken to arrange, we wondered. The pub has drastically changed since the years of the early 2000s when it was once the local of Andrew Stephens and his fellow work colleagues [1]. Back then the décor was largely nondescript and the most exciting aspect was its ‘Weekly Wednesday Pub Quiz’ in which the lads always participated, but never won - having consumed far too much Guinness stout. Nowadays Star Wars is the theme of the bar with model spacecrafts and figurines hanging from the ceiling. A giant guitar hangs over the main bar on which a human skeleton sits.

This very peculiar pub is stationed on the corner of a hill and looks ordinary enough from the outside, but architecturally the interior has the layout of a mock-church with its large gothic stained-glass windows, marble arches, and sky domes. We were met by a young barwoman who was warm and friendly and served up a good quality Guinness at an even €5.00. One could easily spend an entire day perusing the collected memorabilia, but daylight was still strong, and we had other taverns to tap [2].

FOOTNOTES

[1] Messrs: Dan, Greg, Stephen R. and Stephen H. would imbibe here several nights a week where they would willingly exchange a large portion of their salary for pints of Boland’s delicious Guinness. One very regrettable hangover hung heavy over ‘the lads’ who felt the pull of the pub after a hard day’s work. A load of Boland’s pints was consumed after which they went across to the Stillorgan Shopping Centre for some fine cuisine in the shape of Chicken McNuggets from the McDonald’s restaurant and then proceeded to consume any number of Fat Frogs in Bondi Beach (the former Stillorgan nightclub – long since shut). Stephens along with Greg spent the night passed out in the latter’s car which had been transformed into an illegal hotbox and parked at the back of the club. Reeking of rank weed and stinking of belched booze they had to crawl into Dunnes Stores as soon as it opened to purchase an entire pair of fresh clothing. This was done in order to present themselves at work in a semi-professional manner, still intoxicated having slept for a maximum of 180 minutes. A wasted youth.

[2] One nearby tavern we definitely will NOT be taping is the Stillorgan Orchard. Alluring is its beautifully thatched roof, but pub lovers beware: inside is a gastritis affair where food is king and pints don’t matter. It’s a wannabe Wetherspoons but asks twice the price. Another local establishment to IGNORE is the Leopardstown Inn, known simply as ‘the Lep.’ This ‘pub’ is more akin to an amusement park with the appearance of a poor man’s Hugh Hefner mansion. Hold on to your hat readers, there’s a rotating bar - just like a little Merry-go-Round which one can ride while sipping some sort of outlandishly infused pink gin or some such shite. If you dare to order a Guinness and no grub you’ll be ostracised at once.

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